I'm Marc Pardo, Do I Know You?
by jago-ji
Summary: Sometimes, your timing just sucks! HER: You regret all that time you wasted because of fear. Then, time runs out…and he's gone. HIM: You finally let her go and at the last minute realize…you can't. Then everything is taken from you, even her memory.
1. Chapter 1 Time for a Change

**I'm Marc Pardo. Do I know you?**

__Sometimes, your timing just sucks! HER: You regret all that time you wasted because of fear. Then, time runs out…and he's gone. How do you go on? HIM: You finally let her go and at the last minute realize… you can't. Then everything is taken from you, even her memory. How do you go on?__

Author's Note: This story starts immediately after Janet Evanovich's Stephanie Plum Book 16, _Sizzling Sixteen_. JE owns them; I just borrow them and dress them up in my own paper words. It's all for play, not profit.

NOTE: **I will finish this story**, but it will take longer than my past stories. I am working on several other writing projects, and will not post as regularly as I usually do. Special thanks to bgrgrmpy for proofing and offering comments to the draft and to sonomom for her words of advice and encouragement. I wouldn't have posted this story without either of them.

_**End of Book 16**_

_Ranger said, "I'm going out of the country for a few weeks. Tank will watch out for you. And I'll be on my cell phone. I'll be in touch when I get back. You owe me." And he disconnected. _

_I took a shower and was about to dry my hair when my doorbell buzzed. I wrapped myself in a bath towel, went to the door, and looked out the security peephole at Morelli._

"_What?" I asked, holding the door partially open._

"_Can I come in?"_

"_I'm not dressed."_

_Morelli stepped into my apartment and closed and locked the door behind him. "That's perfect," he said, "because I have something for you to wear." And he dangled a lacy pink thong from his finger. "I stopped at the mall on the way home just now. I'd thought you'd look pretty in this."_

**Chapter One—Time for a Change**

_I can't live_

_With or without you_

Stephanie's POV

My head was in the toilet for the third time in as many weeks. I wouldn't mind so much if it was for the purpose of getting rid of the result of a hard night partying, but no, it was the scrubbing bubbles. Joe just loved the way the bowl gleamed after they did their work. Why _I_ was the one pouring in the cleanser and not Joe, I wasn't sure.

How quickly my life had changed since I lost my job, again. I rarely scrubbed _my own_ toilet, and here I was cleaning my… my _what's_ toilet? What exactly was Joe to me? Was he my boyfriend, my lover, my significant other? None of those names seemed to fit what Joe and I had.

Joseph Morelli is the tall, dark handsome man in my life. He is Italian through and through, macho, semi-chauvinistic and drop-dead, movie star gorgeous with the best ass on the East Coast, and maybe the West Coast as well. He is a detective with the Trenton Police Department and he lives firmly in the Burg, at least his mindset is pure Burg.

Chambersburg, or the 'Burg, is a small blue-collar neighborhood in Trenton where husbands troop off to work everyday and wives stay home, clean house, raise the kids and have dinner on the table promptly at six.

While I was also raised in the Burg, I never really fit the mold, though there was (and still is) considerable pressure on me to conform.

I wasn't against marriage; I even hoped to experience wedded bliss one day. I really liked kids, as long as they were someone else's. I liked a clean house and I loved food, but cleaning for me was on an as needed basis (and I had very little need) and there were hundreds of restaurants, diners and fast-food places in Trenton that offered already prepared and cooked food.

I couldn't imagine not working, or staying at home being a housewife. I've had some type of a job since I was sixteen (I'm thirty-something now) and didn't plan to stop anytime soon, except for my current forced lull in employment.

When my weasel of a cousin Vinnie lost his bail bonds office in a fire, I lost my job as a bounty hunter. I was feeling worthless and every day that passed increased my anxiety.

Joe, however, was ecstatic. He hated my job, hated the risks I took and constantly told me how bad I was at my job. Of course, he'd prefer I not work at all. He kept dropping hints about me moving in permanently and being a 'lady of leisure,' which in his mind included cleaning _his house_ and cooking dinner _for him_. It was, after all, the Burg way.

Joe's and my last breakup was about 'toast,' of all things. Actually, it was about me using up the last of the bread and not buying a new loaf so Joe missed having his toast the next morning. So, now I was trying to be mature and meet him halfway, but the line seemed to keep moving and in the wrong direction. You make one dinner and you're expected to do it every night. _Sheesh_.

I was feeling trapped, like I'd slipped into a funnel, wide at the top but narrowing rapidly the farther in you went. I needed a job and I needed one fast.

I had no idea what I was going to do for money. The bounty hunting job market was iffy, with the bonds office burned down and Vinnie without a financial backer. Vinnie was trying to worm his way back into Lucille's heart and bed, and talk her father, Harry the Hammer, into bankrolling him again, but so far… no go.

Connie had picked up some temporary office work from one of her Italian relatives. Given her family's 'wise guy' connections, I declined her offer to ask if there was any work I could qualify for. Lula was still debating whether to take Connie up on the same offer.

I'd checked with Les Sebring at True Blue Bonds to see if he would throw some work my way, but he told me he already had a stable full of experienced bounty hunters (one of which was Ms. Jeanne Ellen _Perfect in Every Way_ Burrows!).

Maybe it was time to look into another line of work, though what… I hadn't a clue. Stephanie Plum, just another thirty-something trying to 'find herself.'

The past few weeks, Joe and I had been getting along great. Of course, most of the time we'd spent together was in bed. Sex had never been our problem. Joe seemed to be more relaxed and in a good mood lately. Maybe because I was pretty much living in his house, sleeping in his bed and not chasing fugitives. Even better, no one seemed to be chasing me.

I hadn't totally moved out of my apartment, but I couldn't afford to keep paying rent with no income coming in. Luckily, I'd been able to pay cash for my current used car, so that was one monthly payment I didn't have to worry about. It was actually a pretty decent car for a change. My Uncle Lou had bought himself one of the new hybrids, a Prius, and offered me his low mileage Camry for a smokin' $1,700. I was Uncle Lou's favorite niece.

So, when Grandma Mazur approached me with an offer to sublet my apartment, I told her I'd think about it. She was dating one of the 'Hobbits' we'd met last month during the 'save Vinnie' fiasco. Grandma and 'Horny Toad from Over the Hill' (yes, that was his real name, he had it legally changed) had decided to pool their social security checks and move in together. If Mr. Horny Toad lived up to his name, he would be a good match for my ever-randy grandmother. Dad was thrilled at the prospect she'd be moving out of his house. Of course, he'd be thrilled if she left in a plain pine box, too.

I pulled my head out of Joe's toilet, grabbed the bucket of cleaning supplies and trooped downstairs. I had just enough time to wash up and put on some clean clothes. It was nearly dinnertime in the Burg and tonight was Joe's and my night with my parents.

I was giving Rex his dinner of hamster crunchies and some sunflower seeds when my cell phone rang. It was Joe.

"Where are you?" I barked into the phone. "My mother's going to have a fit if we're late for dinner again." I could hear lots of commotion on the other end of the line and I heard Joe let out a big sigh.

"Cupcake, I'm not going to make it tonight. We've got two gangs declaring war on each other on the south side and until we can get them settled down, the entire division is out on the streets. Tell your mom I'm sorry and be sure to save me a piece of chocolate cake. Luv you." Joe hung up.

Great. Without Joe there as buffer, I could look forward to spending another evening listening to my mother tell me my biological clock was ticking down. I called home and let them know Joe was working a case and not to set a place for him tonight.

I pulled up in front of the house and surprise… Grandma Mazur was waiting for me. She launched into all sorts of questions about my apartment. The one that gave me a queasy stomach was when she asked if my apartment came furnished or should she and Horny start looking for a strong double bed. Countdown to dinner must have started. Mom was busy in the kitchen.

I entered the house and the delicious smell of pot roast and brown gravy hit my nostrils. I mentally rolled my eyes. I'd tried to make pot roast last week and all that Joe's house smelled like was burnt cow. I said hello to my father on my way into the kitchen and he put his hand over mine as I squeezed his shoulder, but he didn't look up from the TV. It was like stepping back into a time warp. Nothing ever changed at my parents' house.

I take that back. I heard the loud cries of an unhappy toddler coming from the dining room. Ever since my sister Valerie moved back to Trenton, my parents' home was filled with the frequent noise of kids screaming, fighting and crying.

My mother yelled at me from the kitchen, "Stephanie, could you pick up Lisa? She misses her mother."

My youngest niece Lisa was buckled into the high chair, but I lifted her out and carried her into the kitchen. "Where's Val and the rest of the Kloughns?" I asked, trying to bounce my niece and distract her from her discontented mood.

My mother stopped whisking the gravy long enough to explain, "The flu's going around and they just keep passing it back and forth. Lisa's already had it twice and Valerie asked if we could take care of her until her two sisters and Albert got better."

I finally got Lisa quieted down. She was fascinated by my curls and kept pulling them straight just to see them spring back when she let go. I even got a giggle from her when I made a silly face.

"You're a natural with her," Mom smiled at me before she returned to mashing the potatoes. "Time's running out, Steph. If you don't hurry up and marry Joseph, you'll miss your window of opportunity to give me more _(deep sigh)…_ to have your own children."

Mom took the pot roast out of the oven and set it on a trivet. "I'm curious, Stephanie. What are you waiting for?" She looked up at me. "You and Joe have been dating, more or less, for the past five years. Is it just sex between you two or are you serious about each other?"

"Mother!" I said, shocked at her uncommon candor.

"Well, you're nearly thirty-five years old, you don't have a job, and you and Joseph seem to be getting along better than ever. At your age, are you really waiting for something better to come along?" She shrugged her shoulders, "I'm just saying."

Wow! Mom usually just lectured, demanded or complained. Tonight, she actually asked me questions. Of course, they were all designed to get me married and popping out babies, but still...

I watched as she stirred a pat of butter into the pan gravy and poured it into the china bowl adding a sprinkle of fresh ground pepper over the top. I couldn't believe I was mentally taking cooking notes from my mother. Shaking my head, I tried to clear it of the image of me in a shirtdress and apron, a string of pearls around my neck. Stephanie Plum, the 21st century June Cleaver of the Burg. My eye started to twitch.

If I didn't confront my mother about the point she was so unsubtly trying to make, she would continue to push all evening long. I caught her eye and gave her my most serious 'back off' look.

"Mom, I know you mean well, but your constant pushing isn't going to speed up a wedding; it just raises my blood pressure. Please, let Joe and me work this out by ourselves."

Mom pursed her lips and I knew there was more she wanted to say, but she nodded and squeezed my arm as she carried the gravy bowl into the dining room.

Thank goodness she dropped that line of conversation for the rest of the evening, but her words started a nonstop reel of tapes playing in my head.

What _was_ I waiting for? It's not like there were any other offers of marriage or commitment possibilities on the table. No knight, white or dark or otherwise, was going to ride up on a white horse and carry me off into the sunset, or drive up in the Batmobile and whisk me away to the Bat Cave.

Ranger's POV

As I drove the distance between Boston and Trenton, the surrounding darkness of night made me feel more isolated than I normally held myself. All my thoughts turned inward, a bit too reflective for my rotten mood. I had the radio on trying to distract myself from the more depressing thoughts, but the current song playing was triggering unwanted memories. I reached to turn the radio off several times, but stopped for some reason I couldn't fathom.

_Sleight of hand and twist of fate_

_On a bed of nails she makes me wait._

_And I wait without you_

I was glad to be putting the past few weeks behind me. I'd spent the last week in Boston, and the weeks before that in Atlanta and Miami. With my right-hand man Tank handling the Trenton office, we were now finished with restructuring each RangeMan office so it could operate more independently. Now, I wouldn't have to physically travel to each office and keep running interference between clients and staff. Many of our clients operated large regional and national companies so security procedures needed to be standardized throughout RangeMan, Inc.

Installing state of the art teleconferencing communication systems had also helped. Not having to travel so much and still be able to personally see my staff during business meetings eased my mind. I was of the firm belief so much of communications was done nonverbally that the video-feeds via satellite were crucial to managing employees long-distance.

While I was gone, Tank kept me up to date on everything happening in Trenton, even what was going on with Stephanie. It wasn't what I wanted to hear, but I wasn't surprised by the news either.

Tank reported she and Morelli were tighter than ever. Steph was spending more time playing house with the cop than looking for a job. Rumor had it she was going to sublet her apartment to her grandmother and one of those Hobbits that had 'stormed the castle' to save Vinnie Plum. For Stephanie, giving up her apartment was a major shift in her relationship pattern with the cop.

_And you give yourself away_

_And you give yourself away_

_And you give_

_And you give_

_And you give yourself away_

Maybe Stephanie was finally ready to settle down into Burg life with the cop. I'd be lying if I said that thought set well with me. It felt like she was settling—taking the easy road—just throwing away her dreams. 'Flying' in the Burg was frowned upon. Wonder Woman would be no more.

The first couple years of our acquaintance, I assumed Stephanie and Morelli would eventually get together. I even pushed her back to him after that night — that one brief glorious night in her bed. That night I've regretted on so many levels.

_My hands are tied_

_My body bruised, she's got me with_

_Nothing to win and_

_Nothing left to lose_

At the time I kept telling myself sleeping with her would resolve the fascination I had with her. It always had before when I couldn't get a woman out of my head. One night of sex and the mystery and intrigue were gone. Until Stephanie.

That one night was my undoing. I still sent her back to Morelli, but it was at too high a cost. One I've paid for daily for the last three years — once I could admit what she truly meant to me. Back then, I couldn't offer her even a semblance of a normal life or relationship, but I still wanted her in my life, anyway I could have her.

_Through the storm we reach the shore_

_You give it all but I want more_

_And I'm waiting for you_

After that incredible night, I was convinced she wanted more than the conventional Burg life. I thought she'd choose me. ¡Qué arrogancia! [_What arrogance I had!]_ I never, ever, expected to be in this agonizing, extended state of limbo.

_See the stone set in your eyes_

_See the thorn twist in your side_

_I wait for you_

For years, I've watched the woman I love bounce around in a sick yo-yo relationship with a provincial man who tries to squeeze the last vestige of originality and vitality from her. He, of course, just sees it as protecting her from herself. By both his words and actions, he is killing the very thing he loves about her.

And now it looked like she was willingly accepting that life as her destiny. ¡Dios, qué pérdida! _[God, what a waste]_.

_And you give yourself away_

_And you give yourself away_

_And you give_

_And you give_

_And you give yourself away_

Everyone in Stephanie's life was always telling her what to think, what to feel. I refused to treat her like a child. I'd been waiting for her to come to terms with _her own_ feelings and thoughts…_to realize what_ _she really desired_ _out of life_. I'd hoped it'd be me.

I obviously waited too long. I'm a patient man, but even I have my limits. Nothing in my life has changed. I can offer love, but I still can't offer her a commitment. My life still isn't my own. The only thing that's changed is my tolerance level.

I know I can no longer live the half-life I've been living, but can I live without her? I just know I can't sit back and watch this travesty of Steph and Morelli's on/off again relationship any more. I have to find the courage to change what I can, which is myself and my own actions.

_We'll shine like stars in the summer night_

_We'll shine like stars in the winter night_

_One heart, one hope, one love_

_With or Without You..._

Maldita sea esa canción! [_Damn that song!_] I couldn't get it out of my head the rest of the drive into New Jersey.

_With or without you_

_With or without you_

_I can't live_

_With or without you_

_With or without you_

AN: Song is 'With or Without You' by U2. I will post the next chapter in a week. Any feedback would be most welcome.


	2. Chapter 2 Rejection

**Chapter Two—Rejection**

_I'm afraid of love love love_

Stephanie's POV

The next day, I was eating a jelly doughnut in my Camry in the parking lot of Tasty Pastry contemplating where my next paycheck was going to come from. A black Porsche Boxster pulled up next to me. Without turning my head I knew who was driving the ridiculously expensive sports car. I also knew he wasn't at the bakery for his morning sugar and lard fix so I waited for him to approach.

Ranger Mañoso is the 'other tall, dark and handsome man' in my life. He is second-generation Cuban-American, a badass bounty hunter and co-owns and manages a successful security company. He is my friend, my mentor, my protector, and for one unforgettable night was my most spectacular lover.

Ranger knew Joe and I were together, on and off, but that didn't stop him from poaching kisses. It also didn't prevent me from desiring those very same hot kisses. _Damn my Italian/Hungarian hormones!_

Ranger'd been out of town for several weeks, but I'd been so wrapped up in my own problems I hadn't even wondered where he'd gone. He was frequently out of town for weeks, even months at a time, so this was nothing new. Ranger had an aura of mystery about him and rumors flew about what he actually did for a living. Killer for hire, Special Ops, secret agent/spy, Batman… pick one.

"Babe, raspberry polka dots look good on you."

I looked down at my white t-shirt now spotted with several dribbles of dark red jelly. Before I could lick the last of the gooey stuff off my lips, Ranger stuck his head in the car window and licked the corner of my mouth himself. Essence of Ranger filled my nostrils and sent dizzying waves of sensual images through my brain. The summer heat was just starting for the day, but my body temperature just shot past a hundred degrees.

Ranger straightened back up, "Yup, raspberry," he said, seemingly satisfied with his powers of taste and observation. Nothing escaped Ranger's notice, not even the cotton candy-colored blush creeping up from my neck to my cheeks.

"Looking a little flushed there, Babe. Heat getting to you?"

He was dressed in working attire today—black t-shirt that hugged every bulging muscle and every ripped ab, black jeans that cupped his perfect ass, but were just loose enough in the front to leave something to the imagination, and black work boots. Dark chocolate eyes, long dark brown hair slicked back into a ponytail, full luscious lips and sex radiating from every square inch completed his ensemble.

I decided to stay in my car. It was safer for me. Just having Ranger this close already had my heart racing and my lower regions doing flip flops.

Ignoring his earlier comment, I quipped, "How's the Lone Ranger?"

I didn't get a smile, but then I didn't expect one. Ranger wasn't one to let his emotions show, even a benign one like humor.

"I'm running out to Point Pleasant to check on a client's property. Want to tag along?" he asked.

_Jeez._ An entire day alone with Ranger in a convertible driving to a romantic seaside destination. I didn't think my 'biological clock-ticking hormones' could take it. Ranger and I had a long history of dancing around each other and I hadn't been very successful at avoiding his advances. There had been times I hadn't even tried.

It's not like I had anything else to do today, but I knew I'd be playing with fire if I spent it with this Cuban Sex God.

I knew Joe would have a fit if I went. Even if I managed to stay more than an arm's length from Ranger, when Joe found out I'd spent the day with Ranger, he'd start one of his Italian yelling jags, arms flailing and accusations flying. And I really wouldn't be able to defend myself. I wasn't working for RangeMan so I couldn't claim it was job-related. Of course, I could claim friendship and that would be true, but I knew I would be less than happy if Joe spent a 'friendly' day with Terry Gilman. So, do unto others, and all that crap.

My guilt over wicked thoughts about Ranger was bad enough. I didn't need any additional guilt from his inevitable attempts at kisses and caresses.

"I smell smoke, Babe. You're thinking too much." Ranger squatted down next to my car window. "It's just a half day's trip, reassuring a scared family after a break-in and reinstalling the alarms after some minor vandalism. I wasn't suggesting a tawdry rendezvous, just a pleasant drive to the beach, a short meeting with a client, lunch at a seafood restaurant, and back home." His voice held a note of entreaty in it.

Blast his ESP. How did he know my mind went straight to sex? Oh yeah, maybe because each time we saw each other I ended up pressed up against his magnificently hard body, his lips and life force sucking the breath out of me.

However, nothing about Ranger could be considered tawdry. Badass definitely, but _primo_ badass all the way. Speaking of a 'bad' _ass_, Ranger's was 'sink your teeth into bad.' And talk about 'beefcake.' Mmmmmm…surf and turf for lunch?

"Babe, if that's what you want for lunch, I'm sure I could arrange it." _Now_ Ranger was grinning.

_Damn!_ My 'appetite' and tendency to say my thoughts out loud were always getting me into trouble.

A day at the beach with Ranger sounded so tempting. Too fuckin' tempting.

"I'm pretty busy all day today, Ranger. Job hunting, you know, but thanks for thinking of me." And now, I'll be thinking of you all day long.

"If you need a job, you know you're always welcome to run searches for RangeMan."

Yeah, a job at RangeMan would be great until Joe got wind of it. "Again thanks, Ranger, but I'm looking into a new line of work. Something that doesn't involve garbage, bombs or psychos."

Ranger dropped his arms onto my open window and gazed at me. "Personal products plant or button factory?" he chuckled.

My temper flared. "I have _other_ skills," I huffed.

"Don't I know it." A grin followed that cryptic comment. "You can do anything you put your mind to. If you need references or help with your resume, let me know. Be glad to help."

He stood and with a quick stretch, Ranger leaned in and kissed me, soft and lingering. As surprised as I was, my fingers found their way into his silky hair and I held his head in place as the kiss went on and on. Finally, his hand came up and held mine against his head. His eyes were inches away burning into mine. He brought my hand to his mouth and placed a kiss on my palm. This wasn't casual flirting, this was Ranger in danger mode.

"Steph…I…" he started, his voice low and filled with emotion, his eyes dark with desire.

A flash of fear shot through me. "Ranger, don't."

I was feeling vulnerable and afraid I would give in to whatever he asked. My willpower was already on low.

I flinched as his blank expression slammed into place. We stared at each other for an interminably long moment.

He uttered one final brusque word, "Babe."

Ranger stood up and strode quickly to his car. I watched him get into his Porsche and then tear out of the parking lot.

Immediately, regret froze me and something inside me cracked.

A song came on the radio—a song that said it all. Fighting back the tears, I pulled onto Hamilton Avenue, nowhere to go—except where I was too afraid to.

_I keep on tellin' myself that I'm alright_

_But I know that this wasn't other times_

_When I let him go and I was fine_

_Ooo…I can't lie_

_'Cuz I never fell harder_

_I stopped when you started_

_Arrived when you parted_

_and now I'm stuck here_

_Why did I listen_

_to my inhibition and run_

_When there was nowhere to go and now_

_Now I know_

_You were the only one_

_And now I'm the lonely one_

_Watchin' the days go by_

_And I can't ever forgive myself_

_think that I need some help because_

_I'm afraid of love love love_

_I'm afraid of love love love_

_I'm afraid of love love love_

_I turn the light off at night_

_When I start to cry_

_I don't wanna see my life passin' by_

_I finally found someone who could_

_Open up my eyes_

_I'm afraid of love love love_

AN: Song is_ 'Afraid of Love' _by J. Rice. Special thanks to bgrgrmpy for her proofing skills and support and to sonomom for her literary advice and encouragement to post.


	3. Chapter 3 One Rejection Too Many

**Chapter Three—One Rejection Too Many**

_No reason to stay_

_is a good reason to go_

Ranger's POV

I looked around my office as if seeing it for the first time. I hoped it wasn't for the last time.

We'd been in the Haywood building for four years now. They'd been productive years and the company was still expanding and continuing to make all the partners a substantial annual profit. RangeMan had an excellent reputation as the premier security company on the East Coast and I knew it was due to my vision, business acumen and leadership abilities. I experienced an unexpected sense of pleasure and pride at RangeMan's rapid success.

I found I couldn't help but take an assessment of my life at a time like this. I seemed to do it lately whenever I knew a mission was imminent.

General Braddock's call had come at a good time. I needed a break from Trenton. This mission would give me an opportunity to focus on something other than the personal and business side of my life. I'd enough prior notice of the mission to meet with RangeMan's lawyer, Geoff Haricko, and make last minute changes to my various legal documents.

I took a quick trip to Newark and visited my family. My parents knew I still worked in some capacity for the government, but they stopped asking for details years ago and I, of course, couldn't offer any.

My bags were packed; I was ready to go. All I had left to do was tell Tank and he'd just walked in for our afternoon meeting.

"Tank, after tomorrow I'll be gone for a while. First, training and then, the mission. Sounds like training will be extensive this time; the rest will be undercover—absolutely no contact. I'll try to get back to wrap up any business after my training and before they ship me overseas. I met with Haricko yesterday and had him draw up the new agreements and last will and testament. I'll sign them before I leave. You know the drill regarding RangeMan business, and in case anything happens to me…"

Tank waved me off, "Yeah, I know. Between Geoff and me, we'll make sure your family and Julie are taken care of." My thoughts went briefly to Julie. We were just starting to develop a long-distance father-daughter relationship. I would miss our emails and weekly phone chats. Tonight's call to her would be difficult.

"Tank, I made one change to my will. It's regarding Stephanie. I want her included in that arrangement. It's all in the legal documents Haricko prepared. Just in case."

Tank cut his eyes to mine, silent but questioning. "Don't worry. RangeMan will take good care of Steph, just like we always do. I'll send you regular reports on her while you're in training."

"NO!" I cried, then hastily recovered. In a softer tone, "Don't. I'll read them when I get back. And, Tank… this may be a long one."

Tank and I stared at each other for a brief moment, unspoken thoughts passing between us. We'd been together a long time and Tank knew the realities of this part of my job just as much as I did. He reached out his arm and clasped my shoulder. With a quick nod, Tank turned, dropping his shoulders as he walked out the door.

0o0o0o0o0o

AN: Song lyrics are from_ 'Leavin' on a Jet Plane' _by John Denver_. _

_All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go_

_I'm standin' here outside your door_

_I hate to wake you up to say goodbye_

_But the dawn is breakin', it's early morn_

_The taxi's waitin', he's blowin' his horn_

_Already I'm so lonesome I could die_

I quickly picked open the locks and entered the dark apartment. No obvious human sounds, just the hamster wheel creaking as the little rodent ran its journey to nowhere. Slipping into the bedroom, I stopped for a moment to breathe in her scent and listen for her light snores.

My chair was in its usual corner and I gratefully dropped into it. I wasn't physically tired, but mentally I was exhausted. I rested my chin on top my steepled fingers and felt my body finally relax.

A shaft of moonlight fell across the bed, lighting up her features. It was only at times like this I could indulge my need for her. To stare as long as I wanted at her face, her form, her wild curls… to drink her in.

I let my thoughts range back over the past five years_._ _Cinco años!_

Five years since she'd come into my life and turned my ordered world upside down. I could remember our first meeting in that little diner. Vinnie's office manager Connie had asked me to help a newbie learn the ropes. I had no idea what to expect, but I owed Connie a favor. That day changed my life.

In she walked, this quirky dichotomy. Her looks were more intriguing 'girl next door' than sophisticated beautiful model. But there was something about her that captivated me from the very first moment I saw her.

She was five foot seven inches, a hundred twenty-five pounds, with creamy white skin that I was soon to discover blushed to a sexy shade of pink when embarrassed and she embarrassed easily. Her hair was a wild mass of brown curls I knew would be soft to the touch, but it was her eyes, a shade of piercing blue that bored straight into my soul and seared its ever-lasting mark there.

She was a scared novice, not a clue in the world about bounty hunting, or much of anything else involving street smarts or the seamier side of life. Yet she wasn't about to let me know it. She put up a brave front. I was an intimidating man, so this was a true feat of courage for this little white girl from the Burg. She presented this 'never back down,' determined face that sucked me in from the very first firm handshake. I couldn't help but agree to be her mentor, her _Professor Henry Higgins_ and she my fair lady, my _Eliza Doolittle_.

It was that innocence willing to go up against iniquity that first intrigued me. What kept me hooked was even after facing down numerous felons and murderers and even evil itself, she remained as innocent as that first day.

After five years as a bounty hunter, she'd come up against some of the worst dregs society had to offer. She'd been beaten, burned, blown up, kidnapped, shot, stalked, stuffed into coffins and cabinets, and threatened with a flamethrower and she still had that innocent light radiating from her.

Somehow she saw past all the grime, filth, meanness and malevolence, to pick out that one small spot of good in a person. When she turned those incredible blue eyes on this badass ex-Army Ranger, I saw my own small spot of goodness in her eyes. She made me feel human, unsullied by my past actions, normal, even if just for a moment.

What made her even more attractive to me was that she wasn't saccharine sweetness. She knew life wasn't all sunshine and rainbows and she had experienced some hard knocks herself. But each time she got knocked down, she picked herself up and kept going.

If that wasn't enough, she also brightened my day. She had a way of turning even the most mundane situation humorous without even trying. Of course, many of the things I considered amusing most others would find terrifying or revolting. For some reason, Stephanie accepted my strange idiosyncrasies without comment. She wasn't afraid of me and she gave me her complete trust and loyalty. She was one of a kind.

I kept telling myself I could walk away anytime. And I kept flirting, stealing a little kiss, enjoying a little caress—a little bit of the dream.

All that led to that _one night_. That one night I thought would get her out of my system once and for all. It didn't. Just the opposite. I knew then she'd ruined me not only for all other women, but for all hope of a relationship-free existence. But I also knew I couldn't offer her much, so I didn't. I gave her everything I could—my cars, my protection, my friendship and loyalty, and my love, such as it was.

Then, it was a waiting game. To see if she would leave the cop of her own accord. Nothing changed. I waited three more years. She continued her unhealthy pattern of moving in with Morelli, then fighting and leaving. It was during one of those 'break-ups' I couldn't help myself and spent that one life-changing night in her bed, in her arms.

Yet I kept falling into my old pattern of holding people at a distance. There were times I wanted to tell her how I felt. I actually managed to say the words a few times, but I always said it in a way that gave me an out in case she didn't respond in kind. She never did. And she always took back up with Morelli. Each time was like a knife slicing into my heart.

_There's so many times I've let you down_

I considered myself a man who faced his fears and did what needed to be done, except… when it came to love. Love was my Achilles' heel. The fear of rejection by the woman I loved was my one weakness.

I'd wanted to tell her the day after I returned from Boston. I found her at the bakery, dripping jelly all over herself. I smiled every time I thought of it. When she refused to go to Point Pleasant with me, I tried to tell her right there in the parking lot. Her guilt over Morelli got the better of her and she stopped me. More knives cutting my heart to ribbons.

I'd heard she moved back to her apartment again. Another spat between her and the cop. How many days would this fight last?

I was her safety net when it came to stalkers and aggressive skips, but I refused to be her safety net when it came to leaving Morelli. Before I could tell her what was in my heart, I needed her to choose me — or at the very least,_ choose to leave Morelli once and for all_.

If I'd ever thought _ANY_ of her breakups with him had been real, had been permanent, I would have been at her side in a flash. But that was one thing this badass was seriously afraid of, rejection—rejection by her. It hurt too much. I could take all the physical pain you could throw at me, but that kind of emotional pain I couldn't bear. So, I kept my distance.

This new mission spurred a decision for me. Maybe if I wasn't in the picture, it would help her to make a decision — any decision. I just knew I couldn't stay in limbo any more. I wasn't an indecisive person and hanging the entire balance of my life on someone who obviously couldn't be decisive was an anathema to me.

After five years of this chaos, I'd reached my limit. I'd always love her, but this back and forth was killing me. No more…

_Every place I go, I'll think of you_

_Every song I sing, I'll sing for you_

A movement from the bed roused me from my reverie. She was awake and aware of me. I waited in the dark.

"Ranger?" She flipped on the small night lamp.

"Babe."

"What's happened? Why are you here?"

I got up and came over to the bed. "Can't a friend stop by for a visit?"

She looked over at the alarm clock. "At 3:30 in the morning?" She waited and got no response.

"Are you going away again?" Her voice went low and monotone.

I sat down on the bed wanting nothing more than to take her in my arms and have her willingly come to me, no second thoughts, no guilt… free choice. I kept my arms at my sides.

She sat up and pushed her mop of loose curls back over her forehead. "How long this time?"

"Don't know for sure, but it'll be quite a while. If you need anything…"

"I know, call Tank," she blew out. She tried to peer into my face, but I was in the shadows. She fidgeted a while before speaking again.

"Ranger?"

"Yeah, Babe…"

"Would you… hold me? I mean, since it's going to be a while and all…"

_Now the time has come to leave you_

_One more time let me kiss you_

_Close your eyes, I'll be on my way_

_Dream about the days to come_

_When I won't have to leave alone_

_About the times, I won't have to say…_

A spark of hope flared up inside me. Maybe this time… I pulled her to me one last time. Felt her body mold to mine one last time. Kissed those full responsive lips one last time. I buried my face in her glorious hair, drinking in her scent, her essence one last time.

_Kiss me and smile for me_

_Tell me that you'll wait for me_

_Hold me like you'll never let me go_

_Cause I'm leavin' on a jet plane_

_Don't know when I'll be back again_

_Oh babe, I hate to go_

I pulled her tighter into me, but she pulled back, resisting.

The spark of hope briefly morphed to anger before the pain of yet another rejection drenched all other emotion.

Exhausted again, I dropped my hands to my sides. "Babe, take care of yourself."

"Don't get shot, Batman."

The knife sliced through me yet again.

_Cause I'm leavin' on a jet plane_

_Don't know when I'll be back again_

_Oh babe, I hate to go_

I walked out of her bedroom… out of her life.


	4. Chapter 4 And so, it begins

**Chapter Four—And so, it begins…**

_Taking this sinful world as it is,_

_not as you or I would have it._

Ranger's POV

I glanced out the window as the plane started its descent. It was late afternoon; the island beaches were spread out for miles with hot white sand still dotted with sunbathers. Stephanie would love this… _Mañoso, erase that line of thinking_.

I closed my eyes as the military plane landed at Barking Sands at the Pacific Missile Range Facility on Kauai, Hawaii. I needed to clear my thoughts and focus solely on the training ahead. The summer heat and tropical humidity hit me as the doors opened and I walked onto the tarmac with the other four men that had been chosen for this team.

We were shown our rooms and given the training schedule, with instructions to meet at the base conference center at 1700 hours for the initial briefing. After unpacking, I joined the other men in the cafeteria for a cup of coffee and to get to know the guys I'd be trusting with my life.

At 4:55 p.m., the five of us filed into the conference room. There was the usual assortment of military types sitting around the large table. The one surprise was that General Braddock had come to brief us personally on the mission. Unusual unto itself, but this was no ordinary mission. We'd been handpicked for our expertise and skill sets. I'd never worked a mission with any of these men, but knew they were the best at their jobs, just like I was.

Without a wasted minute or motion, General Braddock stood ramrod straight at the front of the conference room. Fixing each of us with his eagle-eyed stare, the General began.

"_Men, you have a serious challenge ahead of you. The mission you're being charged with is not the relatively simple one of taking out a person or a facility. It is a long-term undercover assignment that will require you to work side by side with those who are plotting against the U.S. and our democratic way of life."_

Tell me something I didn't already know. Sounded like he was running for office—defending America and our freedom from our enemies.

"_In the next four weeks, you'll be training harder than you've ever trained before. I'm talking physically, mentally and intellectually. This location was selected because it is the closest site in the U.S. to the environment you'll be working in for your undercover assignment. All physical training will be structured to push you to your limits. The elevation, humidity and heat will take their toll on you. But that is the least of your worries."_

I was actually looking forward to the physical challenges. Running a business stateside had left me soft and out of shape.

"_You're all going back to college, men. You'll be studying geology, nuclear physics, engineering, business, language and international politics. When we get done with you, you'll have the equivalent of two PhDs: one in nuclear engineering and one in international business management."_

Great! I thought I was done with college. Maybe I could add a 'Doctor' to my name. My mother would love to be able to introduce her son as _Dr._ Mañoso. The mention of nuclear physics caught my attention. Sounded like we'd be dealing with the threat of nuclear weapons.

"_As to the political ramifications and your specific assignments, there are files in front of you that you must internalize within the next week."_

Each of us glanced down at the 'For Eyes Only' files in front of us. We'd soon know exactly what the mission entailed and what the stakes were.

"_Listen carefully. Here's the bottom line scenario, men."_

Hmmm. Looked like he was going to tell us directly instead of letting us read the files. That was unusual. This mission must have serious political implications and the military was getting pressure from above to resolve whatever situation had come up. A situation requiring stealth, subterfuge and probably violence.

"_Sources tell us Venezuela has secretly agreed to provide Iran with weapons-grade uranium. Russia is the middle man in this, providing the technology and equipment to build nuclear reactors. From what we understand, the first shipments of uranium should be ready within two, maybe three months. I don't have to tell you what this would mean if it were true."_

Yeah, Iran is run by an aggressive little Napoleon who fancies himself on a mission from Allah. He wouldn't hesitate to use nuclear weapons on any of his neighbors, starting World War III with the push of a red button.

"_Your primary assignment: find incontrovertible proof of the agreements and actual collaboration between these unfriendly governments in their pursuit of building nuclear weapons AND get that proof out of the country back to us." _

So, that's why we were going through matriculation at our age and taking advanced courses in nuclear engineering and international business. This could take months infiltrating a tightly run clandestine international triumvirate. I'd rather this was a simple assassination.

"_Your secondary assignment: render useless the processed uranium or at least find a way to slow down these operations. We need time to get the U.N. to agree to implement harsh sanctions."_

That was more like it. I could get into blowing something up.

The General finally shifted his rigid stance a millimeter. He made the control I had over my body look like I was a flailing marionette. He continued in a monotone with the mission specifics.

"_Here's what we do know:_

_Geologists recently discovered the Roraima Basin in South America has the largest uranium deposits in the world. It is also one of the world's most inaccessible and inhospitable areas. The Basin covers three countries' boundaries: Venezuela, Brazil and Guyana, but it is most accessible from Venezuela. There are few towns and fewer roads. The main transportation mechanism to get any contraband out of the region is the Orinoco River and its tributaries. Most of the basin is shrouded in heavy fog and clouds so satellite imagery is useless. Also, the Venezuelan government recently declared the Roraima Basin a 'no fly' zone, so there are no opportunities for air reconnaissance."_

So, we were going in to a hot humid hellhole without map Intel. This should prove interesting.

"_We have unconfirmed reports that several 'gold mines' in Venezuela are actually uranium mines owned by Iranian holding companies. We also know the Venezuelan government has established a so-called state-sponsored job creation program that is really designed to mask the processing and transportation of uranium ore out of the country. _

_There are rumors of a new 'tractor factory' and a 'cement plant' that haven't produced one tractor or one bag of cement and are instead being used to process raw uranium into 'yellowcakes,' the concentrated powdered form of uranium oxide. These so-called factories are located along the Orinoco River west of Cuidad Bolivar." [Bolivar City]_

Hmmm. So, if we blew up these 'factories' we'd be spewing raw or partially processed uranium into the watershed, affecting the environment for several hundred miles downstream. I made a mental note to research _implosion_ techniques, instead of _explosion_ weapons.

"_Cuidad Bolivar is one of Venezuela's larger cities, with over 325,000 people, and is located where the tropical Orinoco narrows from a 13 mile-wide river to less than one mile. Large freighters can sail up to the city from the Atlantic Ocean to privately owned ports and transport cargo, legal or otherwise, back out to the Atlantic. Also, there is now a major bridge at this location connecting two highways over the river facilitating cargo transportation by truck."_

At least we'd be living in luxury in a big city while we infiltrated their systems. I hadn't fancied a several month-long stint trying to survive in the Amazon jungle. There, your enemies were not only the hostile government troops, but deadly reptiles, insects and disease.

"_That's where you come in. We have no proof of these uranium processing plants. The folders in front of you detail your individual undercover assignments. Some of you will be posing as nuclear specialists while others will be international business advisors helping the locals deal with the Iranian holding companies. We expect it will take you a few months to infiltrate your respective companies and gain access to the sites in question. Therefore, you will need a firm background in your new professions to be believable for that long."_

I always fancied myself as an international business tycoon. Now, I'd have the chops to pull it off.

"_The training over the next four weeks will cover the basics of uranium detection, mining and processing, enrichment processes and various facets of nuclear engineering. You will also be trained to use miniaturized radiation detection equipment to protect yourself from overexposure."_

Dios! Instead of Batman, I could become a radioactive Spiderman. I wasn't ready to give up the possibility of being able to have any more children, though I didn't know why. It's not like I ever let anyone get close enough to contemplate raising a family with me.

"_All of you speak English and Spanish fluently, but you will receive language sessions, mainly in Farsi/Persian and the local dialects spoken by the indigenous people. You aren't expected to be fluent in them, but may be able to understand key words if someone is speaking them."_

Another couple of languages under my belt. I already had considerable experience with Arabic for previous missions in Afghanistan and Iraq so the Farsi should come easy to me. I smiled inwardly thinking my brain was already confused trying to keep my thoughts straight in multiple languages. My personal communication skills sucked—big time. Now they could suck in two more languages.

"_I don't have to tell you this assignment has drastic international implications. Neither Venezuela nor Iran is friendly to the U.S. and if they discover U.S. spies amongst them, the consequences would be dire. You'll be on your own from the moment you arrive in Venezuela."_

Nothing new there. If any of us got caught, the U.S. would disavow knowledge of us and of the mission. In other words, don't get caught.

"_The only safe extraction point we have at the moment is the Republic of Trinidad and Tobago. The island of Trinidad is seven miles north of Venezuela. That's where you'll need to go to get your Intel out. The information and photographic proof you obtain is critical if we're to get the support and backing of the United Nations for sanctions against these rogue governments. You must find a way to get it out at any cost. Of course, any destruction of the processed ore or damage done to these facilities after you obtain the proof would be a bonus… one that would be generously reflected in your paychecks."_

Seven miles of open ocean. After the next four weeks of strenuous training, I should be able to swim that distance, if necessary. And I might have to. Nice to know there could be a substantial bonus above and beyond the hazard pay this mission qualified for.

"_Also, the drug cartels are on the move right now in Venezuela since Colombia has cracked down on all drug trafficking through their country. The same barges and ships we think will be used to transport contraband uranium are also being used to transport drugs and weapons. So be on the lookout."_

As if we needed another obstacle to dodge. Drug cartels were suspicious of everyone. Just being on a ship loaded with their drugs would make us a target for the 'shoot first, ask questions later' drug runners.

The General was winding down. Good. I was tired. It had been a long day of sitting in airports, planes and hard metal chairs.

"_Men, be prepared to begin your training at 0500 tomorrow morning. Dismissed."_

"Hooah!" the five of us said in unison. Picking up our respective folders we all trooped back to the barracks and bed. For the next four weeks, sleep would be in short supply.

As I turned off the light, a feeling of dread came over me. This was the time of day I was vulnerable to unwanted thoughts. During the day I could stay focused on the task at hand, but just before I fell asleep, thoughts of _her_ came creeping into my mind.

And unfortunately, the guy in the room next to me was playing the guitar and singing some really sad sappy song. I wanted to pound on the wall and tell him to shut up, but the song matched my mood so I let it wash over me as I drifted off to sleep. I could only hope the harsh training regimen that started tomorrow would thoroughly exhaust me every day so I could sleep without dreaming.

_Nobody ever warns you, _

_Or tells you what to do _

_She walks away, _

_You're left to stay _

_Alone, forever blue. _

_The stars have all stopped shining, _

_The sun just won't break through. _

_Each day's the same, _

_More clouds more rain _

_You're left forever blue. _

_Forever blue because you love her, _

_But she doesn't love you. _

_You did your best, _

_Life did the rest _

_You're left forever blue. _

_No reason left for living, _

_Still there's a lot to do. _

_New tears to cry, _

_Old songs to sing _

_And feel forever blue. _

_And be forever...blue _

AN: Song is _'Forever Blue'_ by Chris Isaak.

0o0o0o0o0o0o

¡Dios, he ido suaves y débil! _[God, I've gone soft and weak!]_

That first day of training nearly killed me. We were hauled up the mountain to Hawaii's 'Grand Canyon,' Waimea Canyon. Entering through a little known military installation, our instructor spent the next six hours running us up one knife-edged ridge after another and rappelling down narrow V-shaped canyons in between the ridges. The hundreds of shades of green overwhelmed the visual senses. Our instructor demanded a fast pace and the more than challenging terrain combined with the heat and humidity pushed us all to our physical limits.

The rest of the day was spent on base getting a crash course in nuclear physics or one of the other subjects. Our evening relaxation was listening to language tapes.

The days passed and the training only got harder. Our instructors pushed us to the maximum every day, both physically and academically. I expected nothing less. I was the oldest on the team, and was still able to not only keep up with the rest of the men, but also surpass them both in the field exercises and in the classroom. Playing to our strengths, _my_ primary assignment was international business management, though I still had to pass the rest of the courses, including nuclear engineering.

With the vigorous pace that was set, I had no time to think of anything, _or anyone_, else. I considered it four weeks of bliss. My dreams, however, were not so blissful.

One recurring dream always woke me up in a sweat. The details changed each time, but the theme was the same. The dream starts out with me and a curly-haired girl, walking hand in hand or doing something else together, and then as I lean in to kiss her she pulls back with her arms out, warding me off. I try again and she steps out of my reach—and into the arms of another man. All faces are blurred. There are several variations of the dream, but the one that disturbed me the most was when I stepped back after the girl leans into the other man's arms and an IED explodes under my feet.

I wished I could just sleep without dreaming.


	5. Chapter 5 I Want More

**Chapter Five—I Want… More**

_I don't know how to not love you, I only know how to not let you go._

AN: Stephanie takes a hard look at herself and doesn't like what she sees, making this a difficult chapter to read from a Stephanie/Joe perspective and also from a pure Steph standpoint. The lyrics are from _"Arms"_ by Christina Perri. Special thanks to LoveTheWizard for recommending this song.

Stephanie's POV

I woke up to Joe's strong hand rubbing up and down my arm and his lips nuzzling the back of my neck. I willed myself to stay still, feigning sleep. I couldn't go through the motions again.

Last night had been agony, feeling his hands all over me, but not feeling my body respond. And the worst thing was, Joe didn't even seem to notice. He was so intent on his own pleasure, I don't think he even noticed I was dry. The friction was painful, unbearable really. The fault was mine, though. I hadn't said anything; I just let him pound into me while I gritted my teeth. I was too embarrassed and didn't know how to tell him I wasn't aroused. It had never happened before and I knew it would devastate him to think I didn't want him.

I didn't know what was wrong with me. I'd always had a high libido and Joe was a good lover, but for some reason I couldn't get in to it. I felt dead inside. It had been building for the past several weeks. Each time Joe touched me, instead of being turned on I was irritable. It felt like my nerve endings were grating on each other. Even if I pushed Joe away initially, he was persistent enough so I eventually overcame my body's unexplained resistance. But last night, no matter how hard I tried I couldn't get excited about making love to him.

He finally got the hint this morning and left me alone in bed. Relief swept through me. I fell back into a deep sleep. My dreams lately were a jumble of images and feelings all centered around one thing, or should I say one person. This morning's dream was typical.

'_It was nighttime and I was walking through the streets of Trenton looking over my shoulder and feeling someone was following me. Then the city suddenly changed into a tropical jungle. Something was still stalking me and fear forced me to start running. Glancing back over my shoulder I saw a black panther chasing me. It sprang forward knocking me to the ground. Instead of killing me, though, it turned me over and the panther changed into a man, dark, strong and overpoweringly sensual. I was no longer afraid. The man kissed me passionately and I kissed him back just as passionately. The kisses led to hungry exploration of our bodies and soon we were making love fiercely, primally. I could feel him plunging into me again and again, my fingernails raking deep scratches into his back as wave after wave of pleasure racked my body. I cried out his name in my sleep. The name wasn't Joe._'

I woke up feeling flushed and aroused and there was a wet spot underneath me. I quickly got out of bed and hopped in the shower.

The bathroom was still steamy from my shower. Wiping the condensation from the mirror, I looked at myself. The face staring back at me wasn't a happy one. I was too afraid to think much about it, but I knew what I wanted, what my body was trying to tell me. I wanted what I couldn't have.

I did the face thing — moisturizer, mascara, lip gloss. Then the hair thing — anti-frizz gel, a run through with the comb and then a ponytail. After slipping on a t-shirt, a pair of jeans and a cute pair of sandals I tripped down the stairs where Joe offered me a mug of coffee.

"Morning, Cupcake. I was wondering when you were gonna to get up." Joe nuzzled my neck. "Last night's workout went a bit long, didn't it?" I sipped my coffee, not responding.

He grinned, "I slept like a log. My boys and I musta worn you out too, for you to sleep so late."

I mentally rolled my eyes at that last statement. Even Joe's old jokes didn't do a thing for me anymore. What was wrong with me? I was finding fault with everything he did.

Stepping back, he confided, "Have I told you recently that I love you, Steph?" Joe looked into my eyes hoping for some glimmer of reciprocation.

"Mmmhuh," I murmured noncommittally as I blew across my hot coffee. I'd never been much for saying how I felt about deeply personal feelings. I thought I still loved him, but I was definitely unhappy with my life.

Without a job, I felt like I was mooching off Joe. I was living in his house, eating his food, even taking an allowance from him. I felt like a child, not an adult. If this was what a housewife felt like, I wanted no part of it. Maybe because I didn't feel like a partner. I hadn't 'chosen' this life, it had been thrust on me. Something had to change and soon.

My cell rang. Grandma. A couple of weeks ago, I decided to let Grandma and Horny Toad move into my apartment. They were just subletting, but I'd moved all my belongings over to Joe's. Dad said he was going to turn Grandma's old room into his man cave; he'd be celebrating for weeks to come. Mom and Joe were both happy as clams; I was finally safely ensconced in Joe's house.

"Good morning, Grandma. What's going on?" I asked, not really wanting to know.

Grandma launched right into it. "Horny and I had a big fight and he moved out. I found out he lied to me. He wasn't as 'horny' as he told me he was. Couldn't even get it up most of the time, even with those little blue pills. I need a younger man, someone who can keep up with me."

I groaned inwardly. I loved my Grandma, but the last thing I wanted to hear about was her sex life, or even that she _had_ a sex life.

I could hear an occasional _thunk_ in the background. "What's that noise, Grandma?"

"Damn vegetables. Horny ate nothing but veggies. I've already loaded up one wastebasket and I'm filling a second. Kale, squash, brussel sprouts… you name it, he ate it. Yuck!" _Thunk, thunk_. I guess I got my dislike for vegetables honestly.

And then Grandma dropped the bomb.

"Steph, I can pay my half of the rent, but it may take me some time to find another roommate who can pay their half. Is that okay?"

I closed my eyes and sighed. I'd had no income for several months now. Vinnie was still trying to find a backer for the bail bonds office and my daily efforts at job hunting hadn't paid off yet, thrilling Joe to no end.

I'd tried nearly everything, but the economy was in the crapper and competition for even the most menial jobs was intense. I figured I could get a job at a fast food place, but for crying out loud, I was nearly thirty-five years old. Plus minimum wage wouldn't pay my bills. I couldn't settle for that yet, but I didn't know how long I could hold out.

Not having to pay rent had lifted some of my income worries, but I still had my car expenses such as gasoline, registration and sky high insurance bills, not to mention my ever-mounting credit card bills. If I had to pay half the rent on my old apartment, I'd have to borrow it from Joe. _Jeez._

I was getting desperate enough I'd even work for Ranger, but he was 'in the wind' and I'd be darned if I'd ask Tank. He scared me too much.

Plus, me working at RangeMan would just start a big fight between Joe and me and I was really trying to make 'us' work.

Joe had been following my phone conversation with Grandma. After I hung up, he said, "Cupcake, isn't your lease on the apartment up next month? Just don't renew and let your grandma figure it out." He came up behind me and started nuzzling on my neck again. "I'm not sure she should be living on her own anyway."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "You think I should throw my own grandma out on the street?" I yelled, whipping around and shoving him away from me. I was puzzled why I reacted so strongly, but I could feel my anger building, not lessening.

Joe stumbled back against the counter. "What was that for?" He started with the arm gestures.

"No need to get violent. If the apartment doesn't work out for her, you know she can always move back in with your parents. Honestly, I think that'd be for the best, don't you? Your grandmother isn't the most stable person there is and besides, that apartment is a piece of crap," he said.

"My grandmother is _fine_ and that _piece of crap_ is my home," I uttered, low and slow.

"I thought _this_ was your home now," Joe yelled, throwing one arm up in a wide Vanna White gesture around the kitchen.

"I thought we were a couple?" Joe complained, then dropped his voice into a cajoling tone, "You've been doing so good, not having to work, you've really gotten into cleaning and even learning to cook. Steph, I thought we were happy?"

My voice got louder and louder as I talked, "_You've_ been happy, Joe. _I've_ been miserable. I _hate_ not working. I _hate_ relying on you for an allowance, like a child." Anger was rapidly building inside me… anger at Joe… anger at myself… anger at the situation I was in.

I finally had the committed relationship I wanted or thought I wanted, but it was becoming obvious that Joe and I would never be happy together. We wanted different things and couldn't seem to reach a compromise. We'd both been trying for years, but could never make our relationship stick.

"I'm having serious doubts about us as a couple, Joe. We can't seem to make it more than a few months before it all blows up. And you want me to give up _my apartment_? What am I going to do if we break up again? Where am I supposed to go?" I shouted, arms flailing.

I didn't know if I wanted to yell or cry. Was I just PMSing or was this a real life situation that had become unbearable?

"We're not supposed to break up, Cupcake. If we fight… no… _when_ we fight, we're supposed to work it out, not run away," he said, his finger wagging up and down in front of my face. "At the first sign of trouble, _you_ run away. I'm right and you know it. Aren't you ever gonna grow up?"

"_Grow up?" _I cried. Yeah, I knew what he was saying was right and the mature thing to do was stay and work it out. But he was treating me in such a condescending manner that my blood was boiling over. I grabbed his wagging finger and bent it backward — hard.

The next thing I knew I was flat on my back on the kitchen floor and Joe was straddling my waist. He was shaking his hand obviously in some pain, but he was also grinning down at me.

"Cupcake, you should know better than to try using force on a man, especially a cop. How you survived so long as a bounty hunter is beyond me. If you hadn't had Ranger and his thugs hovering over you all these years, you'd have been killed or at least seriously injured numerous times." He just had to rub my nose in my failures.

Joe glared down at me with a _'Duh!'_ look on his face. "Oh wait, you _were_ injured… _several times_. Do you _know_ what that did to my nerves, Steph, not to mention my stomach? Why do you do this to me?"

Joe looked heavenward as if praying for strength to endure me and my lifestyle. I knew my mother considered me a 'trial.' Now, Joe felt I was a burden to be suffered. I tried to push him off me, grabbing his thighs with my hands and shoving.

"Get off me, Joe," I said through gritted teeth.

He laid his hands over mine trying to quiet me down and then uttered the words that doomed us, once and for all.

"_I won't let you do that kind of work again, Steph_. It's too dangerous and my nerves can't take it anymore. I love you and I'd prefer you not to work, but if you have to, get a job as a secretary or something safe. Anything that doesn't involve you chasing down bad guys, getting blown up or getting shot at." I knew Joe was telling me that he cared about me, but all I really heard was the ultimatum.

He'd stopped looking at my face and was staring at my boobs straining against my t-shirt as I struggled to push him off me. His hands quickly moved to my torso.

"Think of me, for a change. I'm your boyfriend. I'm supposed to protect you, but how can I when you throw yourself into one dangerous situation after another?" His fingers were stroking my stomach through my shirt.

Just like Joe to issue me an ultimatum and still think I'd be in the mood for a little slap and tickle.

"You won't _let me_? _Get off me, Joe_."

I hated being confined and continued squirming underneath him. Pushing at his thighs and hips, I tried to dislodge him by bucking him off. He grinned at my futile struggles and it was obvious by the growing bulge in his jeans he was getting aroused.

"Maybe you should get a job as a massage therapist. You have sensuous hands, Cupcake." He grabbed my wrists in one hand and held them over my head while his other hand slipped beneath my shirt and fondled my breasts.

Enraged he would reduce our argument to a sexual grope, my angry yells became inarticulate growls, which only served to turn him on more. Flattening his body on top of me, he mashed his mouth over mine and thrust his tongue down my throat. He started unzipping my pants.

I couldn't believe it. He really thought I'd just roll over and have sex. I had to stop this. Unable to push him off, I bit down on his tongue. That got his attention.

He jerked up, his hand flying to his mouth. "Whad da fuck?" he said thickly, blood spotting his lips.

I finally found my voice. "Get. Off. Me." I spit out each word.

Joe slid off my body, leaning up against the oven door. "Whyja do that, Thteph?" he was still lisping.

"You wouldn't get off me and you wouldn't listen. I wasn't about to have sex in the middle of our argument." I sat up and pushed myself against the opposite cabinet.

Zipping up my pants, I straightened my shirt and sighed. "Joe, this isn't working. If my solution to all our arguments is running away and yours is balls to the walls sex — even when I'm _not_ in the mood, then we don't stand a chance in hell."

As I got to my feet, I looked down at one angry, confused man. My voice flattened to a monotone. "It's over, Joe. I don't want to do this anymore. We've been trying for years to make this work. It's just too hard. We want different lives and we can't seem to compromise. You need to find someone who wants the same things you do and I need… hell, I don't know what I need, but it's not this."

Joe got to his feet and reached out to me, but stopped when I stepped back and cringed. He must have seen something in my eyes that finally got to him.

"Steph, I didn't mean to… I'd never force you… I'm sorry if I hurt you. But you can't mean that. Let's talk about this."

We stood there staring at each other. I could see the hurt look in his face and hear the sincere apology in his voice, but his words no longer tugged at my heartstrings. I knew then, without a shadow of a doubt that we would never be able to make 'us' work. It was time! _Man up, Steph, bite the bullet!_

"What more is there to say? You want a wife that stays home and takes care of the house and has babies. Babies are great, but they're not my dream. I want… _more_. I want to… to work. I'm not happy staying at home. I need to feel like I make a difference, like I contribute something to the greater good. I want to experience something else besides life in the Burg."

As I said it, it was as if an epiphany hit me.

I felt like ever since Joe and I had started seeing each other, I'd lost a piece of myself. I'd lost whatever it was that made me determined to solve all my own problems, to win at any cost. I'd become a 'girl.'

Don't get me wrong. I liked being a girl. But I didn't like being weak and dependent on others to 'save' me. I needed to reclaim myself.

I didn't blame Joe, couldn't really. I was the one who kept coming back, I think out of fear — fear of being alone, fear of being rejected/disapproved of, fear of change, of having to change. Not anymore!

Joe gave me a pained look "Cupcake, that was fine when we were in our twenties, but it's time to settle down. I want kids, Steph. I want them now, before I'm too old to play with them. Don't you want kids… ever?"

"I don't right now, Joe. I don't know if I'll ever be ready. Like I said, we want different lives. Let's cut our losses. I'd like to remain friends, but I'll understand if you don't. I'm going to go upstairs and pack up my stuff. I'll be out by the time you get home tonight."

Joe just stared at me. I turned to go. His cell phone rang. I waited until he was done.

"That was my boss. They found two more bodies down by the river. That makes thirteen dead druggies in the last week. Looks like we have an epidemic of tainted heroin. I have to go."

He tilted my chin up, "Steph, don't leave. Not like this. We'll talk more tonight. We can work it out. I know we can; we always do. Please, don't go." He brushed his lips across mine and grabbed his gun and keys and left.

I went upstairs to pack.

Packing didn't take long. The last thing I carried out to the car was Rex.

"Looks like we're moving back home, Rex. We'll have another roommate. I think you'll like her. Grandma Mazur is a little different, but things are never boring with her." I anchored his tank in between several pairs of boots on the passenger side floor.

I took one last look back at Joe's house. That's what it was — Joe's. It was never 'our' house. Now it never would be.

I climbed into the driver's seat of my paid-for used Camry and buckled up. A wave of despair swept over me. I punched the button for the radio and the strains of an oldie but goodie reggae tune came on, _"Don't worry, be happy."_ A desire to scream came over me. Instead, I watched the satisfying scene in my head as I smashed my foot through the radio, but in reality I didn't have the energy. I just switched channels and by luck, a depressing song was on. Much more like it.

_The world is coming down on me_

_and I can't find a reason to be loved_

_I never wanna leave you_

_but I can't make you bleed if I'm alone_

I dropped my head on the steering wheel and couldn't stop the lone tear that leaked out.

_You put your arms around me_

_And I believe that it's easier for you to let me go_

"Oh, Rex, what am I going to do? I have no job. I'm out of money and my credit cards are maxed out." And I was leaving my last chance for marriage: the white picket fence, 2.5 kids and a big goofy dog named Bob. Of course, Rex could probably do just fine without Bob.

I looked down at my silent companion. He didn't look worried, but he had a bowlful of hamster crunchies. When it was empty, I bet he'd start worrying then. I was responsible for another living being. I couldn't let Rex starve.

He was huddled in the corner of his tank with a bunch of hamster litter fluffed around him. "You like eating, don't you, Rex?" Yeah, so do I.

I considered my options. The list wasn't long. My parents were definitely out. I'd get pointers on hookin' from Lula before I moved back home again. In fact, I really had only one option left.

_I never thought that you would be the one to hold my heart_

_But you came around and_

_you knocked me off the ground from the start_

He'd offered to help not that long ago.

_You put your arms around me_

_And I believe that it's easier for you to let me go_

_You put your arms around me and I'm home_

But it killed me to think I couldn't make it on my own. I shouldn't always need rescuing.

_How many times_

_will you let me change my mind and turn around_

_I can't decide_

_if I'll let you save my life or if I'll drown_

"I don't want to, Rex, but there's only one thing left to do." I'd promised myself I wouldn't take advantage of him. He'd given me too much already. I blew out a loud breath.

_I hope that you see right through my walls_

_I hope that you catch me, 'cause I'm already falling_

_I'll never let a love get so close_

_You put your arms around me and I'm home_

Everything but what I really want from him. Another big sigh.

_I tried my best to never let you in to see the truth_

_And I've never opened up_

_I've never truly loved 'till you put your arms around me_

_And I believe that it's easier for you to let me go_

"Maybe it's time for me to compromise, Rex." I wanted him… so much that it hurt, but we'd always wanted different things, too. Was love enough?

Well, I've tried the committed relationship thingy. That was a bust. Maybe I should give the 'no ring, condom' thingy a try. At least I'd be ecstatically happy some of the time.

_You put your arms around me and I'm home_

I blushed, thinking of a naked, sweaty, hard-bodied Ranger lying next to me in bed. No, make that lying on top of me in bed. Wait… make that on top of and inside me in HIS bed with the thousand thread count sheets. That image got a shit-eating grin from me. I started the engine and drove home—to my home.

_You put your arms around me_

_And I believe that it's easier for you to let me go_

_You put your arms around me and I'm home_


	6. Chapter 6 Babe, I Have To Go

**Chapter Six—Babe, I Have To Go**

_Hold my hand and I'll take you there, somehow, someday, somewhere. (__West Side Story)_

Ranger's POV

As I reviewed my agenda once again, Tank stopped me.

"Alright, Ranger. We've gone over all the business items twice. We've rehearsed all foreseeable problems and their solutions. I can handle any RangeMan issue that comes my way. If I need any help, I'll call Silvio. So relax, man."

Tank folded the files on the desk and sat back, looking at me. "Now, what else do we need to do to prepare for the unforeseeable problems _you might need our help with_ if things go FUBAR?"

Only a slight tightening of my jaw betrayed my outward calm.

"We'll keep the emergency protocols already in place; the same code words and identity. Remember, Tank, this must stay between the two of us. I don't want anyone else involved. It's too risky."

I regretted involving my best friend in this safety valve plan, but it had been in place for several years now. I continued to hope I'd never have to activate it, because it would mean something had gone terribly wrong and I could no longer trust my government contacts.

There was a safe deposit box only Tank and I could access and it contained a birth certificate, social security card, credit cards and other items necessary to begin a life under a new name. There was also a driver's license and a passport, each with a recent picture of me. A trail of a life history, including education and jobs, had been established and was just waiting for me to assume that life under a new name. Again, only Tank and I knew what that name was.

"Ranger, you don't need to remind me. We've been together too long for that. My concern has always been… what if something happens to me? That leaves you without anyone to rely on for backup. I'd feel better if we could bring in one other person. You know Bobby or Lester would go to the ends of the earth for you."

"It's never been a question of loyalty, Tank. It's hard enough on me knowing I've dragged you into this potential subterfuge, I draw the line at involving any more of my friends. The chances of ever having to use any of this are slim."

I ran my hand through my hair. "I guess I'm just a little uneasy with this particular mission. I'd be happier if this was a simple assassination or search and destroy. Undercover infiltration assignments are a bitch."

I'd been doing these high risk missions for so many years, they were really starting to take a toll on me. This one could take months. The longer I was undercover, the more chances of something unraveling. I'd be more confident if I'd worked with any of the team members before, but we were all going in cold.

"Ranger, you're the best at what you do. As soon as you get what you need, get out of there. And I hope you're considering not re-upping when your contract comes due again?"

"I try not to think too much about it. Until it happens, it's detrimental to my mental health. It's too distracting. And Tank, just so you know… when I come back, I'm seriously considering a permanent move down to the Miami office. There's nothing for me here anymore."

I looked at the big hulk of a man sitting across from me and lightened the tone of my voice. "You'll finally get to run this place the way you've always wanted." Tank didn't look pleased.

"I don't want the reins, Ranger. I like having the power, but I prefer to stay behind the scenes." Tank let the beginnings of a grin show, "You just _think_ you run it, singao." [_motherf***er_]

I watched as the big man strode out of my office. He was the only person I'd ever let get away with calling me that. I turned back to my desk to wrap up the last few remaining pieces of work. Unfortunately, in the lull I let my thoughts stray.

After four weeks of training in Hawaii, I'd arrived back in Trenton determined not to see her. I planned on staying the minimal amount of time necessary to take care of business and then leave for my mission. I'd already been in town for two days, Stephanie free, and was scheduled to fly out within the hour.

According to Tank, Steph had moved all her stuff in with Morelli the day after I left for training and her grandmother was now living in her old apartment. That was as definitive as she'd ever gotten with the cop. I told myself I wished her well and then shut down that train of thought entirely.

Just as I was about to shut off my computer, Hal called and told me the cameras had just picked up Steph's arrival outside our building and my heart took a nosedive. I punched up the front door camera on my monitor and watched as she sat in her car. She glanced over at the building and then looked straight ahead, her lips moving as she talked to herself. I couldn't help but smile.

Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, but there were a few long curls wisped around her face. When she opened her car door, I headed for the stairs. The garage had an emergency exit door located next to the first floor's front door.

As usual, she was oblivious to her surroundings and never even saw me. She reached the front door and I pulled her into the alcove between the building and the garage where there was no camera coverage. For just a second she struggled until she realized it was me. And then she did the unexpected. She threw her arms around my neck and hugged me. I heard the faintest whisper of my name on her lips.

The feeling of her willing body pressed up against mine sent my head reeling. It was a warm muggy day and her firm breasts were mashed up against my chest. I wasn't prepared for my body's immediate and unwanted reaction. I wasn't used to my body betraying me.

Steeling myself, I pulled her arms from my neck and said, more harshly than I intended, "What are you doing here?"

I could feel her body flinch at my tone, but she threw it right back at me. "_Me?_ What are _you_ doing here? I thought you were out of town on some mysterious business trip."

"If you thought I was out of town, why are you here?" I couldn't help staring into those incredible blue eyes. She looked away for a moment and then a look of defeat came over her.

"I'm here to ask Tank for a job. Vinnie is still scrounging for a backer and the other bail bonds offices are full up. And no one seems to be hiring anyone for anything right now."

She hesitated for a moment before continuing, "I need a job. I was hoping I could run computer searches for RangeMan, or anything else you'd let me do."

I couldn't help it. I had to go there. "Thought you were playing housewife with the cop?"

Several emotions flashed across her face—anger, hurt, determination. She took a huge step away from me and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Joe and I are no longer seeing each other."

"You and Morelli broke up?"

"Yep."

"When?"

"That's not important. What is, _is that we're over_, once and for all." She ran the back of her hand across her brow and flicked her ponytail. I could smell the sweet fragrance in her hair.

"When did you two break up?"

She mumbled, "What's it to you?"

Silently, I studied her as she fidgeted. She looked tired and defeated. Finally, looking down and shuffling her feet, she replied, "This morning."

And by nightfall, Morelli'd have her back in his bed, with his hands all over her. I closed my eyes trying to clear my mind of the image. It was no longer any of my concern.

In a flat voice, I uttered, "Babe," then turned to go back in the emergency door.

"Ranger, wait," she called out to me, with almost a begging tone in her voice, halting me in my tracks.

I turned to look at her. She'd straightened her posture and her chin was pitched up. "This is it. I'm not going back to him." She always accused me of having ESP, now she had it? Her voice took on an edgy bitter note, "_Even if you try to send me back_."

I gazed at her once more, remembering with regret the last time I sent her back to Morelli. She wore a defiant set to her face, but there was something else — a pleading look in her eyes.

Resigned, I led her through the door and over to the elevators. We got off on five and I motioned Tank to follow us into my office. Parking my butt on the front of my desk, I dropped all expression from my face and crossed my arms over my chest. _Self-protective, Mañoso?_

Steph sat down in one of the chairs across from me. I looked at the big man standing at the door and explained, "Tank, I've hired Stephanie."

I cut my eyes to her and saw a look of relief, and then gratitude, cross her face. "She'll take over doing searches and anything else you think she can do. She already knows most of our programs, but may need an update on the newer software. Arrange for the paperwork, any necessary training and her schedule." Tank nodded.

"Babe, work out the details with Tank." Steph gave Tank a dubious look. I waited until she turned back to me, "We'll talk when I get back."

Confusion was evident on her beautiful face. In quick fire succession, she shot out several questions. "You just _got back_. Why do you have to go away again so soon? When will you return?" Her breathing quickened and her mouth was open.

"I go when and where I'm needed. I'll be back when the job's done."

Tank caught my eye and tapped his watch. It was time for me to head back to Fort Dix if I was going to make my flight. Tank slipped quietly out the door pulling it shut behind him. I wasn't sure I wanted the privacy.

"I don't have much time, minutes really. I have to go." I straightened up.

Steph leapt out of the chair, waving her arms, "_Now?_ You have to go _now_? What's so urgent you can't talk with a friend for a few minutes?"

I watched her chest heaving as her tirade continued. She quieted and pursed her lips, staring at me. I felt like laughing. I'd missed the way she flew off the handle at the drop of a hat. I'd missed a lot about her. And now was not the time to play catch up.

"I have to leave."

She blurted out, "I finally know what I want and you just up and leave?"

Her eyes, big and sparkling, never wavered from my face. Her wild hair was coming loose from its confines. A wave of desire unbidden coursed through me. I wanted to plunge my hands into her curls and bury my face and lips against the soft skin of her neck. Try as I might I couldn't take my eyes off her.

I had to ask, "What is it that you _know_ you want?" my voice soft and low.

She began pacing in front of me, but I heard a mumbled, _"_You have to _ask?"_

I repeated my question, "You said you finally know what it is you want?" _Why did I keep doing this to myself?_

She stopped pacing and faced me. Her eyes were shining, filled with tears, but she looked angry. What was going on with her? What had her this emotional?

"Babe?" I could see her chest heaving as her emotions got the better of her. Her mouth kept opening and closing, as if debating whether to say anything or not.

I waited, but I knew time was running out. I couldn't miss the plane. It was a military flight and they wouldn't wait while I finished my conversation, no matter how important I might think it was.

Stephanie turned toward the window. I could see her struggling, her lips moving and I could hear a low muttering, but couldn't make out the words. After what seemed like an interminably long time, she swung her body back toward me and it finally came out all in a rush.

"_You!_ Damn it! _I want you_. It's always been you."

Her voice was strained and choppy with emotion. Her chest expanded as she took a huge breath and exhaled. "I've been too _fuckin' afraid_ for too long. Not any more. I've got nothing left to lose." A gasp that sounded more like a sob escaped her lips and then she was silent.

I stood there, too stunned to move or react. Was she really saying what I thought she was? With Stephanie, it was hard to tell sometimes. We stared at each other. Her shoulders slumped down and her voice softened.

"I know you don't want any entanglements. I don't expect anything between us to change, but we've always been honest with each other. Well, you've always been honest with me. I thought it was my turn."

A slight upturn played at the edges of her mouth and without actually taking a step, her body shifted toward me. And then she said it, "Ranger, I love you… no qualifiers… no demands… no expectations." She was wringing her hands. " I just wanted to finally say it."

I couldn't move; I couldn't speak. She acknowledged it — finally — _she loved me_. She caught me totally off guard. I wasn't prepared for anything close to this. Damn, this was the only thing I really sucked at. I was afraid of doing or saying the wrong thing and having my heart's desire unravel in front of me. And I was out of time — _I had to go_. My brain was racing…

Under the onslaught of my continued silent staring, she dropped her head. Swallowing, she added, "It's OK. You don't need to say anything. We're friends, right? We'll always be friends? Nothing needs to change." She pushed the chair back and turned toward the door.

Friends? As if we'd ever _just_ been friends. That spurred me into action. One step and I swept her into my arms. Her body melted into mine and my mind fought with my body for control. But before I could go any further, I needed to see it in her eyes, that she wanted this, that she wouldn't push me away again.

"Babe, do you mean it?" I stared into her endless blue eyes, searching. "Do you love me?"

I felt as if I'd spiraled into her eyes, seeing her love shining through to my soul. That and her faintly whispered, "_Yes,_" was all the answer I needed.

In my mind, I wanted to gently kiss her, but in reality my mouth crashed down on hers. Finally, after waiting so many years she was finally ready to come to me, _to choose me._

Not breaking lip contact, I wrapped my arms tightly around her and pulled her into me, lifting her off her feet. Her arms were pressed between us. When I felt her tongue sweep across my lips, what was left of my control snapped. Our tongues touched and then I barely remember the next few minutes. My hands were everywhere, trying to touch every inch of my Babe… to etch her in my memory.

When we finally came up for air, my butt was pressed against my desk with Steph snugged up tight between my legs and leaning into my chest. Her arms slid around my neck and we stood there, cheek to cheek, catching our breath. The heat between our bodies felt like we would combust at any minute.

There was one brief knock on the door. Stephanie tried to step away from me, but I held her tight. Tank called out, letting me know my time was up.

I let out a deep breath, "Babe, I have to go." I forced myself to release her. She took a step back.

She shivered, rubbing her arms as if she was cold or felt a chill. When she looked at me, there was a look of fear on her face.

In an agonized whisper, she begged, "Don't go, Ranger! If you go, you won't come back. I can feel it. _Please_, don't go." My brows knitted together in a frown. I didn't know what to say to that.

She flung herself into my arms and held me tight, clearly desperate about something. It was the last thing I expected, until she did the next unexpected thing.

She kissed me. Her lips were demanding. Her hands wound their way up the back of my neck and through my hair holding me to her as the intensity of our kiss increased. Steph had never initiated any physical contact between us before. Her aggressiveness overwhelmed me and again, my body betrayed me. At least some part of me could still act.

In a small pleading voice, she whispered in my ear, "Don't go, Ranger, _please_. I don't know why, but I'm afraid… afraid for you. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."

My heart lurched, not out of fear for me, but because I wanted nothing more than to continue holding her in my arms, kissing her, reassuring her. I'd thought I was beyond this… this need for her. Now I knew I never would be.

"Babe, I _have_ to go." Taking a deep breath, I pulled her a little away from me so I could see her face. "I've made it back from every other… trip. I'll make it back from this one."

I brushed away a lone tear that was making its way down her cheek, then I grabbed her hand in mine. "Take my hand. Feel my strength, my commitment." I kissed her fingers and looked deep into her eyes. "I promise you, I _will _come back. Do you believe in me?" She stared at me for several heartbeats before nodding.

Brushing her hair back from her face I kissed her lightly on her lips. "I believe in you. I believe you can do whatever you put your mind to, Steph. You have great strength and courage… and incredible resiliency. You've always made me proud. Listen to Tank. He won't allow you to do any fieldwork unless you agree to get more training. Do it. Please, Babe."

I expected to see resistance, but at my last two words, I could see her resolve crumble. Her eyes were shining with unspilt tears and she kissed me tenderly, her lips trembling. I crushed my mouth to hers, not able to bear her tears.

She responded so completely, so sensuously, I thought I'd lose my mind. I ran my hands over her back and down to her ass, trying to remember every curve, every valley. Burying my face in her mass of curls, I breathed in her scent. I knew I was hard, I could feel myself pressing into her stomach. _Dios, my timing sucked_.

There was a loud knock on the door and I heard Tank's voice telling me I was out of time. _If we had just one more hour…_

How could I tell her I love her when I could be gone for months, when there was a good chance I would never come back? There were no right words. _Just say it, Mañoso._

"Babe, you're the strongest person I know. I need you to hang in there for me. I _will_ come back and we will have our 'someday'. Te amo, Estefania."

I held her face in my hands and kissed her one last time, pouring a lifetime of desire and yearning in that kiss. Her knees began to buckle and I pulled her to me feeling her warmth… her love, seep into my skin… into my soul.

There was another rap on the door and then Tank opened it, standing there with my duffle bag in his hand.

I let her down gently into a chair and strode to the door. Without looking back, I grabbed my bag and ran down the stairs to the waiting SUV. If I had looked back, I'd never have been able to leave.

The drive to Fort Dix was the longest trip I'd ever taken. I didn't want to go. I didn't want to leave her. I wanted one more day, just one more ordinary day — with the woman I loved and who loved me.

_I wish I could tell you_

_The things I never got the chance to_

_I wish I was with you now_

_To see you smile again_

_I wish we had more time_

_But time goes by so fast_

_A moment comes, and then the moment passes by_

_In the blink of an eye_

_And if I had one wish_

_I wouldn't ask for money_

_I wouldn't ask for fame_

_I wouldn't ask for the power to make this world change_

_If I could have one thing_

_That one thing that I would choose_

_Is one more ordinary day with you_

_With you_

_I wish I could see you_

_And be there where my arms could reach you_

_I wish I could let you know how much you touched my life_

_Maybe a little time_

_Is all *the time* we get_

_The words we long to say are words that go unsaid_

_You can't go back again_

_But if I had one wish_

_I wouldn't ask for money_

_I wouldn't ask for fame_

_I wouldn't ask for the power to make this world change_

_If I could have one thing_

_That one thing that I would choose_

_Is one more ordinary day with you_

_With you_

AN: Song is "_Ordinary Day"_ by Nick Lachey.


	7. Chapter 7 Letting Go

**Chapter Seven—Letting Go**

_Some of us think holding on makes us strong; but sometimes it is letting go._

Stephanie's POV

As soon as I heard the door close, I broke down. _Ranger was gone!_

And everything in my body was telling me something terrible was going to happen… something that would prevent him from returning. The panic threatened to overwhelm me. But I knew there was nothing I could do.

In the span of a few minutes, the course of my life changed. I came here to beg for a job and it ended with me telling Ranger I loved him and begging him not to leave. I'm pretty sure he said he loved me too, though it was in Spanish.

But… he dismissed my spidey sense. Now, I was going to have that awful feeling hanging over my head until he came back, safe and sound. I had to believe that he _would_ come back.

Ranger and I had kissed before and it had always been good, but nothing like the kisses we'd just shared. This was about more than playful poaching or lust. There was promise in his kisses. I wasn't sure what that promise meant, but I felt better about it than anything I'd ever felt with Joe Morelli.

There was a soft click and I looked up. Tank was standing in the doorway, staring at me. I had no idea if he'd heard any of Ranger's and my conversation. I wiped my tears away and stood up. He could probably sense my fear. I needed to make sure Ranger was always proud of me.

Trying to act as if nothing had happened, I asked, "What time do you want me to report for work tomorrow?"

Tank's expression didn't change. It was as blank as they came. His voice was cold. "Regular office hours are 8 to 5, Monday through Friday. If you want to do any fieldwork, you'll need to pass the physical requirements."

I nodded.

Tank stepped aside, indicating I was to leave Ranger's office.

"I'll set up a training schedule for you starting next week. You do realize training will involve exercise and guns, don't you?"

His sharp tone felt like a gauntlet being slapped across my face.

"I'll be ready for anything," I challenged back and stomped over to the elevators. I didn't see the grin spread across Tank's face.

0o0o0o0o0o0o

After leaving Joe's this morning, I moved back into my old apartment with Grandma rather than moving in with my parents. But I knew I couldn't sleep more than a few nights on my old couch, so Grandma said she'd put the word out about my need for a good used sleeper sofa.

Grandma would also be a good buffer to have around when Joe came by, which he would, at least for awhile. Joe was nothing if not persistent. If I moved back with my parents, Mom would be at me day and night to get back with him.

Now that I had a job at RangeMan (thank you, Ranger), I could pay my rent. And if I got the training Tank would force on me, I could do fieldwork and start tracking skips again, this time for RangeMan and earn additional income.

Part of my life always seemed to be in the crapper, but this time something also went right. There was something promising happening between Ranger and me. He'd better come home quickly and in one piece.

I pulled into my apartment parking lot and a feeling of nostalgia swept through me. I'd actually missed this ugly old place. Mrs. Bestler was waiting in the elevator for me, "Hello, dearie, it's been a while. Time off for good behavior?"

"Something like that. I'm moving back into my old apartment on the second floor… with my grandmother." I stepped into the rickety death trap.

"Second floor—coming up. Better dresses and designer lingerie," she croaked.

"Thank you. That was a very smooth ride, Mrs. Bestler. Have a nice day."

I let myself into the apartment and sniffed appreciatively as the wonderful smells of Stefánia meatloaf hit my nostrils. Grandma had once told me the Hungarian dish was named after me, but later I found out it was a popular dish developed long before I was born. Still, I knew she made it just for me as a special treat. She always gave me a big slice with the hard-boiled egg centered perfectly. It helped ease the pain of today knowing my grandmother loved me and did special things just for me.

After we ate, I helped Grandma wash the dishes and then Mom called.

Grandma stopped putting away the leftovers and listened to my responses to Mom's tirade.

"Yes, Mom. Yes, Joe and I broke up. _Mmmhh_, I moved back to my old apartment. Do you want to talk to Grandma? No…_too bad_. No, Mom, I didn't _try_ to break Joe's heart. _What? You sent him over here?" _

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not getting back together with Joe, it's over. Let it go… Mom… please." Nodding, shaking my head. "If you want more grandchildren _so bad_, you and Joe can have them." More eye rolling. "No, that's no way to speak to you. I'm sorry, Mom. OK, gotta go now…yeah…I understand…bye…Mom, someone's at the door. I have to answer the door. Goodnight, Mom."

Before I could get to the door, someone knocked again. I had a pretty good idea who it was.

Grandma had finished wiping down the counters and was ready to turn on 'Wheel of Fortune.' I pleaded with her, "Grandma, that's Joe. Please stay in the room. I don't want to be left alone with him." She nodded and dug her butt down in the couch cushions.

I opened the door and, sure enough, there was Joe and he was not a happy camper.

"Hey, Joe," I said in a low conversational tone.

He didn't take the hint and started out ten decibels above normal. "_Hey_? That's all you have to say to me?" His arm flew up past his head in a classic Italian gesture.

"You moved out before we even had a chance to talk, Steph. I stopped by your parents' house thinking you went home. I can't believe you moved back in here."

Mr. Wolesky peeked out his door as Joe's voice got louder. I stepped aside and let Joe in. He entered, but stopped short when he saw Grandma parked on the couch. "Good evening, Mrs. Mazur." His voice dropped an octave.

"Howdy, Joe. Shoot anyone today?" Grandma quipped.

"No, not today," Joe said, and under his breath, "_at least not yet_."

"We can talk in the dining room." I pulled out a chair and sat down. Joe reluctantly joined me.

He didn't waste any time. "Why did you leave, Steph? I asked you to stay so we could talk about things. I thought you'd gotten past running away after every little disagreement," Joe said.

"I don't call the fact that we can't agree on the most fundamental things about our life together a 'little disagreement.' You want someone who is happy staying at home. I don't want to stay home; I hate it. I want to work. I need to work."

"OK, Cupcake. I can live with that. See, I can compromise. But you can't continue to work as a bounty hunter. The stress will kill me before I'm forty. There has to be some other job you can do—something that doesn't put you in danger every day or attract stalkers. How 'bout it? Work with me here." He reached for my hand, but I drew it back and off the table.

I was having a hard time maintaining eye contact with him. He actually looked desperate. I plunged ahead. "Putting that aside for the moment, that still leaves the question of children. You want them, I don't. I don't see a lot of room for compromise in that."

"We can wait a few more years, Steph. You may change your mind, you know, as your clock ticks down?" He said that last sentence more as a question and gave me a small smile.

I knew I had to drop the final bomb. "I got a job today. I'm working for RangeMan starting tomorrow."

Silence.

Joe stood up and went into the kitchen. I could hear him pacing and muttering under his breath. Then I heard a dull thud and more cursing. Fearing the worst I followed Joe in and found him holding his right hand in his left, still cursing under his breath. My kitchen wall now had a hole in the drywall. I went to the freezer and found a bag of frozen peas. Must be a leftover from Horny Toad.

Handing the bag to Joe, I tried to explain, "I needed a job. There just isn't that much out there right now."

Joe placed the bag of frozen peas over his right hand and shot me a thoroughly discouraged look, "You don't _need_ to work, Cupcake. I can support you. _I want to support you. I love you_."

I had nothing to say that hadn't already been said.

Joe stared at the hole he'd made. "You had to go for the jugular, Steph? Did it have to be Ranger? You know how I feel about him."

He stared at me for a full minute, his jaw clenching and unclenching. I could see he was trying to control his temper, but anger won out.

Finally, he spat out, "Or did you do that intentionally?"

I couldn't look him in the face, especially after what happened between Ranger and me this afternoon. I didn't want to hurt Joe, but I knew we were over. I wished Joe knew that.

There was a noise and we both looked over and saw Grandma standing there. "Pardon me, but I need to take my pills. I just came in to get some water and a couple of crackers. I have to eat something with 'em or they tear up my stomach something awful." I poured her a glass of cold water from the fridge and handed her the box of saltines.

"That's a mighty big hole in the wall. Any bones broken?" Grandma asked Joe.

He lifted the bag and looked down at his swollen hand, flexing his fingers. He shook his head. Grandma glanced over at me and raised her eyebrows. I gave a slight shake of my head and she went back into the living room with her water and crackers.

Joe handed me the now limp bag of peas. "Maybe some time apart would be the best thing for us. I'll think about the things you said, Steph. Please think about what I said and remember… I love you." Joe leaned over and gave me a lingering kiss on my cheek and then he walked out the door.

I leaned against the refrigerator looking at the hole in the wall, surprised when tears starting trickling down my cheeks. I think I was mourning the death of a relationship.


	8. Chapter 8 Give Me Enough Rope

**Chapter 8—Give Me Enough Rope**

_The difference between try and triumph is a little umph._

Stephanie's POV

My plan was to get up early and arrive at RangeMan a few minutes ahead of my scheduled 8:00 start time. Of course, the rest of the RangeMan team was up for their workouts at 0500. I made it onto the premises by 8:00, but I was late arriving on the fifth floor by five minutes. It didn't go unnoticed by my new boss.

"I'll overlook your tardiness today, but from now on out you'll be docked an hour's pay for every minute you're late," he informed me. My mouth dropped open with that bit of shocking news. One look at Tank's forbidding expression and my jaw snapped shut. Tank was no Ranger.

I settled into my cubicle and Tank gave me a refresher on the search programs RangeMan used. He also walked me through two new types of searches they now conducted on all fugitives. He was all business. Not a smile cracked his face nor a personal question escaped his lips.

The day went as I expected. Fairly boring, sitting on my ass all day running computer searches. The bright spot was when Ella, the housekeeper for RangeMan, brought in lunch. Turkey on whole wheat with sprouts and tomatoes. And mustard. YUM! (That's sarcasm, in case you didn't hear the snarky tone in my voice.) No white bread or fattening mayo at RangeMan. I think Ranger was prejudiced against white foods. Ella had also sliced carrots to resemble ruffled potato chips, but it just wasn't the same. I couldn't complain. Until I got my first paycheck, I was broke. Any free food was welcome.

The guys seemed to be uneasy around me and instead of eating in the break room, they took their lunches back to their stations. None of the guys were big talkers, but I had been hoping for a little more social interaction.

I guess I couldn't blame them for being standoffish. I hadn't been around any of them for months out of deference to Joe, and Ranger had kept his distance from me, too. My choices were coming back to bite me on the butt. I spent the rest of my first day working alone in my cubicle.

Before I left for the day, Tank called me into his office. He handed me a piece of paper. It was a calendar with my training schedule. _Sheesh!_ No wonder the guys weren't happy with me. Tank had assigned each of them 'Steph-duty,' training me in the various skills I'd need before Tank would certify me competent to apprehend fugitives for RangeMan. I could look forward to months of target practice, treadmill and weights, and even hand to hand combat. _Oh joy!_

I consoled myself that at least I had a job and one that had the promise of future fieldwork. Maybe with all this training I could even avoid smelling like garbage at the end of the day.

_**One month later…**_

A scream ripped from my throat as I lost my grip on the rope. My body plummeted toward the ground. Then it felt like my left leg was jerked out of its socket and I was dangling in midair. Hanging upside down, I watched Lester, Hal and Bobby standing there with their mouths open.

"Well, don't just stand there. Get me down!" I yelled, pain shooting through my left thigh and hip. I thought these were supposed to be men of action, who could spring into motion in a split second. But these three yokels stood riveted in place watching me swing to and fro.

With a big grin on his face, Lester finally came out of his daze and walked over to me. "I have _never_ seen anyone do that during a rope climb. How did you get your leg tangled in the rope?" he asked, twisting his head to get a better look at my body.

My left leg was stretched tight by the rope wrapped around it and my right leg was hanging loose parallel to the gym floor. Blood was rushing to my head and I was getting dizzy.

"What does it matter how it happened. Just get me down from here," I griped.

Hal joined Lester in staring up at me. I only hoped everything that should be covered, was.

I thought Hal and I were friends, but even he had to get in a dig. "Steph, I've seen you get yourself into a lot of messes over the years, but a simple rope climb? I guess what they say is true: 'Give you enough rope, and you'll hang yourself'."

That got a raucous laugh from all three men and a hardee-har-har from me. All the newbies at RangeMan got razzed. At least they hadn't hazed me—yet.

Being the tallest, Hal put his massive hands on my dangling shoulders and lifted me up. That took the tension off the rope and it immediately unraveled from my leg.

Again, I felt like I was plummeting, but Lester and Hal caught me before I hit the ground. Hal had me by the shoulders and Lester had a hold of my butt. My butt—not my legs. _Jeez!_

I shrugged them off as they righted me and set me on my feet. Glaring at all three guys, I declared, "No more rope climbing. I'll do treadmill, weight training and hand to hand, but I won't leave the ground anymore, unless you plan on teaching me how to fly. Is that clear?"

They dutifully nodded, trying to hide their grins behind hands pretending to scratch noses and chins. Bobby asked if my leg was alright. I stomped on it and bent my knee a couple of times and while sore, my leg seemed to work fine. But I declared my exercise session was over for the day.

This last month, I'd been covered head to toe with bruises, swollen lips and even a black eye or two. I'd finally learned how to fall and how to tuck and roll, so the black and blue marks were lessening. I knew the guys were pulling most of their punches, but it still hurt like heck when I hit the ground, mat or no mat.

I headed for the locker room and wrapped my hair scrunchie on the door handle. It was my signal to the guys I was in there.

This system had worked after the first disastrous day when Hal had walked in on me taking a shower. Most guys would immediately turn respectfully around or do a quick ogle, make a snide comment and then turn around. But Hal, innocent Hal, was so shocked, he just stood there and stared, mouth in a big O.

I guess he'd never seen a naked woman before. Even after I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around me, he still stared as if he were in a trance. Now, I think I have a decent body, but it would never send men in a trance. Except for Hal.

Tank had made a point of telling me that Hal was useless the rest of the day. Hence, the scrunchie.

For the past month, I'd been training in the mornings and doing computer searches on fugitives in the afternoon. I put everything I had into each day, so that if Ranger was here he would be proud of me.

There'd been no word from him, but Tank had told me not to expect anything. I got the distinct impression that Ranger wasn't on any normal 'business' trip. Which meant what I'd always suspected was probably true. Ranger was off saving the world somewhere, putting himself in harm's way.

My earlier premonition came flooding back, filling me with dread. I couldn't function under such fear so I took a deep breath and then another, and drew myself up throwing my shoulders back. Then I made my way up the stairs to the fifth floor.

A month of hardcore exercising had definitely got me into shape. I felt stronger now and running up the stairs no longer left me wheezing my lungs out. And while I still hated guns, I could at least load them and hit the paper target nine times out of ten. Not that a leg wound and a shot-off finger could be called a kill shot, but hey, I hit the paper.

My martial arts skills still sucked. I cringed whenever I knew I was going to hit the mat. And I couldn't bring myself to hit or kick the guys with any force. I had to be mad or scared before I could do that. Also, I had to promise not to resort to my signature 'knee to the groin' maneuver during training sessions.

This afternoon was my first evaluation meeting with Tank. I would learn if I had improved enough to be permitted to do fieldwork. I wore my standard RangeMan uniform of black t-shirt, black slacks and black lace up sneakers. If I was in the field, the slacks could be changed out for black jeans or cargo pants and the sneakers were to be replaced with black work boots.

Luckily, there was no standard for what anyone wore underneath the uniform. I was wearing a pink lace push-up bra and bikini set. Since I suspected Ranger frequently went commando, I tried not to think about what the rest of my co-workers wore underneath their uniforms.

Standing outside Tank's office, I rapped once on the door.

"Enter," was the curt reply. As I walked in, he motioned me to the chair in front of his immaculate desk. Tank looked even more massive behind a desk, towering over me as I sat on the indicated slipper chair. A single piece of paper was the only item marring the mahogany desk's gleaming expanse. I waited silently for him to say something.

He studied the paper, his head down and a blank expression on his face. Since I started working here, I'd only seen two expressions from Tank — blank and exasperated. I didn't like either of them. I was determined to get him to smile one day.

"I have your evaluations and recommendations from each of your instructors. They're a mixed bag." Tank looked at me over his reading glasses, which I didn't know he wore. They seemed out of place on him. He reminded me of my college business systems professor.

"What that means is that it comes down to a judgment call on my part whether to allow you to do fugitive apprehensions for RangeMan." He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest, still looking at me.

"I know you have prior experience as a bond enforcement agent, but now you are working for RangeMan and we have a reputation to maintain. RangeMan employees don't get covered in garbage nor do they let skips slip out upstairs windows," he said meaningfully.

I could feel my blood pressure rising and wanted to defend myself, but bit my tongue instead. I could rattle off a long litany of less than perfect examples of RangeMan employee gaffes, like a certain someone breaking his leg when a skip jumped on him from the porch roof or letting an elderly woman drop him with a kick to his groin, but I wisely chose to zip my lip.

Tank continued, "RangeMan currently has a backlog of FTAs to find and bring in. Many are from Chambersburg. I've decided to let you do fieldwork, but only with a partner. Consider yourself a field agent in training. You will follow your partner's instructions and commands to the letter. Do I make myself clear?"

I nodded.

"Who's my partner?" I asked, hoping against hope it wasn't one of the guys who scared me to death.

"Zero," was the reply. My heart sank. Zero wasn't the largest man at RangeMan, but he never talked, never looked me in the eye and I'd never seen even the hint of any expression on his face. He was one very large… zero. And what was it with all those weird nicknames?

"I still want you to continue your training, but we'll cut it down to two hours in the morning and you will still run searches when you aren't in the field. You are also to sit in on the Wednesday morning brainstorming sessions."

My eyes widened at that last assignment. Only the core team was invited to the Wednesday sessions. They discussed the tough cases, not just FTAs, but any company problem that came up and couldn't be easily resolved.

"M-m-me?" I stammered.

Tank leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk's surface. He looked me over as if sizing me up.

"Most of the core team are military men, with similar training and work experiences. I think it's time we broaden our team. You would bring a fresh perspective because of your, uh, different background and, to be frank, because you're a… uh, well, you're not a man."

I wasn't sure, but I think he may have suppressed the beginning of a smile. Omigosh, so there was something that could tickle Tank's funny bone. I didn't know whether he thought it was funny because a woman could offer insights a man couldn't, or if it was funny simply because _I was_ a woman. I bit the inside of my cheek in an effort not to grin.

He continued, "You may not have had the physical skills needed to be a good bounty hunter, but you had an excellent capture record. To me, that means you have something else going for you. I want you to apply whatever it is that made you a successful apprehension agent to the cases we've been unable to solve. Every Monday, you'll find a set of files in your inbox. The files will contain the information for the cases we'll be discussing Wednesday. Study each one and come prepared to discuss them at the meeting."

I was floored. Tank actually acknowledged I was a good bounty hunter, sort of. And he thought I had something to offer on their tough cases. I tried very hard not to let my relief, joy and well, pride show in my face.

Tank stood, so I did too. He stuck out his hand and we shook. "Congratulations, Stephanie. You worked hard and it shows and as long as you keep it up, you won't run afoul with me." _Great._ Praise and threat in one sentence. That should keep me on my toes. I walked out of his office, my back a little straighter and maybe a slight swagger in my step.


	9. Chapter 9 The Runner Up

**Chapter 9—The Runner-Up**

_Nothing takes the taste out of peanut butter quite like unrequited love._

_ Charlie Brown_

AN: Thanks to bgrgrmpy for the inspiration for the latter piece of this chapter. _PS: Grandma Mazur thanks you, too._

Stephanie's POV

Driving home tonight I was in great spirits. _I_ was a bounty hunter again. It felt good to know I wouldn't be stuck in my cubicle anymore. I realized that not having to sit behind a desk all day was the main source of my pleasure in Tank's allowing me to start fieldwork.

After being my own boss as a bounty hunter the past few years, I was no longer comfortable in an 8-5 office job. I wanted more action, more variety in my work. And now I had variety in spades. Not only would I be chasing skips again, I was going to be part of the core team for their brainstorming meetings. I'd get to play with the big boys.

I pulled into the parking lot of my apartment and out of habit, did a cursory look at the parked cars. One vehicle in the lot, in particular, caught my attention and not in a good way.

Joe had stopped by my apartment once a week since I'd moved out of his house. Each time, I stopped him at the door and told him the same thing—_'we were over'_. He'd also called a few times and suggested lunch at Pino's, but so far I'd been able to stall him. I guess he was tired of being stonewalled.

I couldn't really blame Joe for not letting go. Over the past several years, we'd broken up and got back together so many times, I'd lost count. Why would Joe think this time was any different? I just knew that it was.

I debated driving away and eating dinner out, leaving Joe to Grandma Mazur's groping hands and grilling questions. Then again, maybe it was time Joe and I had another serious talk. I had to find a way to convince him to finally let me go.

I ran up the stairs and power walked to my door. Grandma should have dinner ready. The distinctive smell of lamb chops frying hit me as soon as I entered the apartment. I could also hear voices coming from the kitchen. What I _hadn't _expected was to see Joe in an apron stirring something in a pan while Grandma poured Kraft's Creamy Italian dressing over a bowl of lettuce.

"Well, isn't this cozy," I said. Both Grandma and Joe stopped talking and looked up at me with goofy grins plastered on their faces. I couldn't help but think Grandma had gone over to the dark side.

Grandma explained, "Your timing's perfect, granddaughter. Joseph showed up just in time for dinner and offered to make risotto for us. Wasn't that nice of him?" She sounded more like Mom than my wild crazy grandmother.

"Yeah, Grandma, that's Joe, always thinking of others," I quipped, not bothering to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

"Hey, Cupcake," Joe said warily. With eyes glued to me, he kept staring and stirring.

"I'll set the table for three, then." I turned toward the dining room. Somehow, tonight I had to make Joe understand we were over, once and for all.

Grandma and Joe made small talk all through dinner, gossiping about mutual acquaintances and who was on the slab at Stiva's. I sat silent, hunched over my plate shoveling in the food. Talk about role reversal, now _I _was acting more like my father. _Jeez,_ we were a messed up family.

After the table had been cleared and the dinner dishes washed and put away, Grandma made a big show of yawning. She turned to Joe. "Well, dinner was a real pleasure tonight, Joseph. I enjoyed our little talk. I'm so glad you were able to join us."

She yawned again and stretched out her arms. "But I'm powerful tired so I'm headed off to bed. I sleep _real_ sound. I won't hear anything that's said or done out here. So, you two just make yourselves comfortable." Then she winked at Joe.

Turning to me she said, "Stephanie, I put clean sheets on the sofa sleeper. Now, you take good care of our guest. After all his help with dinner he deserves some TLC." She gently patted Joe on the butt, which got a startled response from him, and then she disappeared into the bedroom. I stopped myself before I could put my finger down my throat.

"Well, I see you haven't lost your _charm_, Joe. You've managed to turn my own grandmother against me."

"You've got it all wrong. She's not against you. She just realized what I've known all along—that you and I were meant to be, Cupcake." Joe smiled, put his arms around my waist and tried to pull me close, but I placed both my hands against his chest and shoved—hard.

"No, Joe. We were _not_ 'meant to be.' Grandma was right about one thing. It's time for some TLC — tough love chat." I motioned Joe to the couch and I took the easy chair. I sat on the cushion edge with my forearms on my knees.

"Think about it, Joe, the only thing we have in common is our past and our past isn't anything to brag about. I know you care about me, but I don't really think you are 'in love' with me." Joe started to protest, but I waved him down.

I continued, "Our relationship consists of us fighting like cats and dogs and having sex. Face it, that's not a good basis for a long-term commitment, let alone a marriage. Bottom line is we want different things out of life and I don't think either one of us is going to change or be able to compromise enough to make it work."

Joe leaned forward and grabbed my hand. "I don't need you to change that much. Just give up your dangerous job."

I did a big eye roll. "I shouldn't have to. That's my decision to make and I would expect a man who loves me to support my choices." I slipped my hand out from his and sat back in the chair.

"Not when your choices put you in danger all the time. You have to admit that since you started bounty hunting, your life has been threatened several times a year. You're a trouble magnet, Cupcake."

He reached out again to hold my hand, but I shook my head and he acquiesced. Then he looked down at his feet and gave out a big sigh. "As a cop, I've seen some really horrific things happen to people and each time I get a call about you, I can't help but visualize those terrible things happening to you."

He rubbed the dark stubble on his chin and locked eyes with me. "It just gets to be too much after awhile, Steph. I love you and just want you to be safe."

He looked and sounded so sincere that the part of me that still cared for him caved a little.

"OK, Joe. I can see that. I can even appreciate your protectiveness. But you need to know that I'm not giving up my job. In fact, I've been in training the last month, including hand to hand combat and firearms. Today, I passed all of RangeMan's tests and I'll start apprehending fugitives again. And Joe, I'm happy about it."

Joe gave a slight head shake. "Yeah, I'll bet Ranger is, too."

I'd expected Joe to bring up Ranger at some point. I wasn't sure how much I was going to tell him. I decided Ranger's and my potential relationship had nothing to do with Joe. I wouldn't outright lie to him, but I didn't consider omission to be an outright lie.

"Ranger has nothing to do with my happiness about being a BEA again. He's been gone over a month."

Joe's head shot back and he frowned. "I knew Mañoso was out of town now, but I hadn't realized he'd been gone that long."

"Yeah, he left before I started my first day at RangeMan and it sounds like he won't be back anytime soon. My job is just that, it's a job and one I've come to enjoy."

Joe got up from the couch and walked over to the window. After a minute or so of staring out at the parking lot, he turned back to me and asked hesitantly, "So, you didn't… leave me… you know, break up with me… to be with… him?"

I shook my head. "No, Joe. You and I broke up because we aren't a good fit. You said it best a while ago. There's me and there's you, but there is no 'us.' Face it, we've never been a couple, no matter how much either of us wanted it."

Crossing my arms over my chest, I went on, though I hated admitting this, "I think, when we first started seeing each other, I was trying to get what I wanted from you when I was sixteen."

Joe gave me a very puzzled look. Sheepishly, I explained, "When you not so gently 'deflowered' me behind the éclair case at Tasty Pastry… I thought you loved me and we would get married and live happily ever after."

I gave him my 'silly me' look and then went on, unable to keep the bitterness from creeping into my voice. "Then, all over town, you left those god-awful 'poems' about what we did. Being only sixteen and a love-struck virgin, I was humiliated. I wanted to die and then I wanted you to die. I came to hate you, but oddly enough, I also felt cheated out of the relationship I'd dreamed about. When we finally did get together after all those years, I… somehow… I thought… maybe… we could make it work."

"Wow, Steph. I had no idea."

"Yeah, well, talking about this kinda stuff doesn't come easy for either one of us."

Joe strode over and kneeled in front of me. "You can still have your happily ever after, Cupcake. I know we've had our ups and downs, but we know each other better now. Before you and I got together, I figured I'd never get married. But since then, I always thought you and I would tie the knot. It may have taken us the long way to get here, but I love you, and by that, I mean I am _in love_ with you, Stephanie."

He reached for both my hands and held them in his. Looking me straight in my eyes, he said, "I know this isn't the most romantic of proposals, but Stephanie Plum, will you marry me?"

I felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room. I was _so not_ expecting that. Six months ago, I probably would have said yes and then regretted it. I tried to pull my hands out of his, but he held them tight.

"Joe… _no!_ NO! Haven't you been listening to anything I've said?"

I yanked my hands away and stood up, causing Joe to scoot backwards. I needed distance between us and walked toward the foyer. How could he ask me to marry him after everything I just told him? I thought I was the one who lived in Denial Land? How was I going to convince him I was not in love with him?

Twisting my body around, I fixed Joe with a stare. He was on his feet, standing next to the couch. "Joe, I need you to _really listen_ to the next thing I say. Are you listening?" He slowly nodded. I straightened my posture and took a deep breath.

"I am **not** in love with you. I can't say it any plainer than that."

Joe stood still for a minute, then strode over to stand in front of me. "But Steph…"

"No more buts. It's over… we're over, Joe." I stood there, trying to remain calm, but inside I was a mess. I knew I was hurting him, but it had to be done.

He reached out to grab my upper arms, but I stepped back. "You don't mean that, Steph. You say it, but after you cool down, you always come back to me."

I shook my head. "It's been over a month and I haven't _cooled down_ yet. And I won't. Whatever I felt for you is gone." Walking to the door, I opened it. "Now please, leave."

Again, he stood there staring at me for the longest time. I didn't waver. Finally, he stormed out the door without a word and without looking back. It was truly over.

Surprisingly, I didn't cry. I'd already said goodbye, several times over. Tonight was anticlimactic, at least for me.

I realized I was petrified. Joe had always been there for me and now he wasn't. Maybe my mother was right. Maybe Joe had been my last shot at marriage. Now, I was truly on my own.

I hoped that Ranger and I had a future together, but that wasn't a sure thing. And that scared the _bejeezus_ out of me, too. Ranger and I were friends first and hopefully, last, but now that the 'L' word was in play, I was afraid it might change things between us. Ranger had always said he didn't do relationships, and I was fearful that me declaring my feelings for him might scare him off. But that wasn't the way he reacted when I told him.

Unfortunately, my timing sucked, big time, and Ranger had to leave before we could really say much to each other. And now, I had no idea where he was, what he was going through or how long he'd be gone. I still had that fear for him in the pit of my stomach — a fear I couldn't shake. But I just had to wait it out. In the meantime, life went on and I had to live my life as best I could.

One thought kept zinging through my head when I felt I couldn't get out of bed or make it through another day. It was Ranger's voice saying, "Proud of you, Babe." I wanted him to be proud of me when he returned, safe and sound, to my arms.

So, I endured the training Tank and the guys put me through. I did my best on the searches I ran and now, I would make not only Ranger, but also Tank proud of me by becoming the best bounty hunter I could be. I also hoped I could help Ranger's company resolve some of their toughest cases, though how I could contribute baffled me. But I would do my best.

With a big sigh, I walked into the bathroom to wash a long hard day from my body.

0o0o0o0o0o

Grandma, dressed in her cotton nightshirt, was waiting for me when I got out of the shower. She was practically giddy.

"So, are congratulations in order?" she asked, dancing in front of me.

"What do you mean?" I replied.

"Didn't Joe ask you a big question?"

"_You knew_ he was going to ask me to marry him?" I screeched, aghast.

Grandma gave me a sheepish grin. "He told while we were making dinner. He said that was why you broke up, because he hadn't done a formal proposal to you and you were angry."

As she spoke, my mouth was opening and closing like a fish out of water and I got mad all over again. "That's _not true_. I can't believe you fell for that load of hogwash. I don't love Joe, Grandma… not like that. I don't want to _date_ him and I certainly don't want to _marry_ him."

"Huh," Grandma mumbled, her dentures sliding around in her mouth as she worried them. "Well, if you don't want him, maybe he's ready for a fling with an older woman," she grinned. My eyes nearly rolled to the back of my head at the thought of Grandma and Joe together.

"Granddaughter, I can't sleep. I thought I'd watch some television for awhile. Why don't you take the bedroom tonight and I'll sleep on the sofa sleeper."

Fine by me. I was so ready for this night to be over. I crawled into my old bed and promptly fell asleep.

A short while later, something woke me. Sitting up in bed, I distinctly heard a faint knock on the door. Not the bedroom door, but the door to my apartment. I stuck my head out the bedroom door and saw Grandma Mazur sound asleep on the couch, the TV on low.

Another knock. I went to the front door and peeked out the peephole. I didn't believe it. _Joe!_ I thumped my forehead softly against the door several times. Then his voice reached me.

"Steph?" he whispered, just loud enough to be heard through the door.

It was the middle of the night. I didn't want to wake Grandma or my neighbors. So, I opened the door and stepped outside. I was dressed only in a t-shirt and a pair of boy-cut panties.

Joe immediately enveloped me in his arms, saying, "I knew you loved me. I knew you'd come back to me." And then he tried to kiss me.

In as loud a whisper as I dared, I said, "Whoa, what gave you that idea?" as I struggled to get out of his tight embrace.

"_You did_, when you texted me," Joe whispered back.

"I never texted you."

"Yes, you did." And with that, he pulled out his phone and showed me. Sure enough, there was a text from my phone and it said, "Come back to the apartment and you'll win the runner-up prize."

"_Grandma_…" I muttered under my breath.

"No need to disturb your grandmother. Let's go back to my place and we can _talk_ about it there." Joe was stroking my back as he said it.

"Joe, no." I tried to push him away from me. "_My grandma_ sent that text from my phone. Didn't you wonder what 'runner-up prize' meant?"

Joe was still rubbing my back and inching closer to me. "It was from _you_. I didn't give it much thought except that you asked me back."

"Don't you get it? Grandma _is_ the runner-up prize. She made me change beds with her tonight so she could answer the door when you came back. In her nightie…"

Joe stared at me with a confused look on his face and then understanding dawned. He gagged as the bile rose up in his throat. Served him right.

"You want me to wake her?" I asked facetiously. Joe vehemently shook his head.

I sighed, "Nothing's changed, Joe. Go home."

"Cupcake, I still think we should give us another try." He pressed me in to the wall and lowered his head until his lips touched my neck.

I couldn't believe it. It was the middle of the night. I was tired, physically and mentally. The thought, _'Why me?'_ flashed through my mind. Damn! I would _not_ become my mother.

I was barefoot, so stomping on his booted feet wouldn't get the result I needed. He had me flat against the wall so there wasn't much room to maneuver, but I'd been training in hand to hand combat with Cal and Zero and I was in much better shape than I was a month ago.

I brought my knee up as hard as I could and connected with Joe's swelling privates. A rush of air gushed from him as he groaned loudly and doubled over. I grabbed his left arm and flipped him to the ground and then straddled his prone body.

I waited until his eyes regained focus and he looked up at me. "Joe, unless it is a police matter, _do not_ contact me. I repeat… _do not_ call me, _do not_ come by my apartment, and especially, _do not_ try to talk to me when I'm working. Do I make myself clear?"

I saw that determined set in his jaw and knew I still wasn't getting through to him. I didn't want to do it, but I had no choice. I let the words come out in a rush, because I wasn't sure how long I could talk about this stuff or how long Joe would stay subdued.

"I'm in love with Ranger. I've been in love with him for years. I knew it when he risked his life to save me and Julie from Scrog. I realized I loved you too, but I am _in love_ with Ranger."

"Steph…" he tried to interrupt me.

"Joe, let me finish. Ranger had always told me he didn't do relationships and he told me to repair my relationship with you. I tried, Joe. I tried my hardest. I hoped you and I could make things work," I let out a big breath, "but how could they when I was in love with another man? I'm sorry."

Shifting my weight a little, I continued, "I don't know if Ranger and I will ever get together, but I need to give it a chance. I'm sorry I wasted your time, Joe. You deserve a woman who can give you want you want—a well-kept home, kids and a sane life. Start dating again. You're a catch. Women will be falling over themselves to date you. One day, I hope you can forgive me, but for now, we need to stay away from each other."

I moved off him and stood up. He slowly got to his feet, moving gingerly.

"Joe?"

He cut his eyes to me. There was a hard look about him.

"I heard you. Don't worry, I'll stay far away from you. If we have to see each other because of work, I can be as professional as the next man. Goodbye, Stephanie."

Stiff-legged, he walked down the hall to the elevator. Just before the doors closed, our eyes met. His were cold.

I hadn't wanted to do it that way, but he was never going to let me go without a rude shock like that.

I went back inside my apartment. Grandma was snoring. She'd be disappointed she missed Joe's second visit of the night. And from now on, I'd be keeping my phone out of Grandma's reach.


	10. Chapter 10 MIAsma

**Chapter 10—MIAsma**

_Miasma: an oppressive or foreboding atmosphere that surrounds or emanates from somewhere _

_MIA: Missing In Action_

Ranger's POV

Buckling myself into the mesh harness of the jumpseat aboard the military cargo plane, I gave myself the next few hours to think about that baffling and amazing encounter with Stephanie. Then I knew I'd have to shift focus and concentrate only on the mission. A distracted mind could blow the operation and endanger lives, including mine.

_Dios_, I'm still reeling…

Stephanie finally admitted she loved me.

Was it real… or some sick cruel joke fate was playing on me?

I can't even follow up on any of it—no time! I might as well be a million miles away.

When she told me she loved me, was it the heat of the moment?

Was she just mad at Morelli over one of their inane arguments?

Or was she speaking her true feelings?

I want to believe the latter. _I need_ to believe the latter.

I love her, but I'd almost given up on us ever being together. _Just another reminder, Mañoso… never give up. _

Steph—(_a quiet chuckle rumbles in his chest_)—she loves to 'stretch' the truth and she lives in denial. I can always tell when she's bullshitting; I get a kick out of calling her on it.

But this time was different. She spoke from the heart. And her heart's true; she's loyal to a fault. I just hope my feelings aren't skewing my opinion of her.

She'd left Morelli many times before, but she'd never opened up to me the way she did today. She'd never said the words, even though _I _had, several times. Hearing her say them now... (_he blew out a deep breath of air and gave a single shake of his head_)

If I make it through this mission… if I return to Trenton to find her back with Morelli, I don't know if I can keep it in check. It'd be the last straw for me.

Damn, my blood pressure's rising. This is no way to begin a mission.

We just didn't have any time—no time to talk it through, no time to see if it would stand the test of time.

So what am I supposed to do? Go on blind faith? Not my strong suit, but I have to go into this mission thinking… _no_, knowing Stephanie will be waiting for me when I return.

As the plane started its descent, I replayed the scene in my office where Steph told me she loved me. _"Ranger, I love you… no qualifiers… no demands… no expectations. I just wanted to finally say it."_ I remember asking her if she really loved me and she whispered_, "Yes."_ The rest of the scene played itself out in my mind without any need for reminders.

The cargo plane landed on Trinidad, which gave me and the rest of the team a chance to become familiar with future extraction possibilities. This would be our destination once each of us obtained the pieces of photographic and electronic proof of Venezuela's collaboration to illegally produce and transport weapons grade uranium to Iran. During training, I'd asked the best way to collect and transport the crucial data, but had been told we would learn that technique when we arrived in Trinidad.

Before we left the island, the team was finally instructed on how to use a specialized piece of equipment that would convert the data we acquired into microchips. Each conversion unit resembled a thick credit card, but could scan documents and take pictures. It could also embed a tiny data capsule under our skin. The capsule components were made of a porcelain alloy and couldn't be detected by scanners. I was beginning to feel like I was in a James Bond movie.

After two days of intense briefings digesting the latest Intel, the five of us left the island on separate ferries headed for different Venezuelan ports of call. Some of us would never lay eyes on each other again.

I had a Cuban passport that identified me as Ramón Machado, with a work visa from British Columbia. My cover included employment as an international business management specialist for a Canadian oil and mining company specializing in nuclear fuels.

I would be advising the small Venezuelan companies doing the actual mining and processing of the uranium ore and then negotiating long-term agreements with Iranian holding companies. Of course, my covert assignment was to put a monkey wrench into things, at the very least delaying finalizing any agreements between the two governments.

My first step would be to ingratiate myself with the powers to be for both the Venezuelan and Iranian delegations in charge of this mining and processing operation. Over time, I would build their trust in me, and gain access to the well protected project files.

I would also try to convince my 'superiors' to allow me to visit the mines and plants processing the uranium ore, though other team members would actually be working in those locations, too. Redundancy was built into the covert operation, in case one or more agents were unsuccessful.

After I had all the evidence I needed securely stored in data chips and embedded on the upper inside of my left arm, my team member and I would then implement the final part of our mission, which was to damage the fake cement plant and hopefully, one of the actual mines. The other team members had their assignments as well.

Debarking the ferry in Guiria, I found a company car waiting for me. Since I'd be traveling to isolated mines, the vehicle was a Tiuna jeep, Venezuela's version of a HumVee. I had a long drive ahead of me. It would give me time to ease myself into my role and into the Venezuelan lifestyle and mindset. The route I chose to drive took me through a couple hundred miles of pastoral agricultural valleys, mined and denuded hillsides and dozens of small villages.

My destination was Cuidad Bolivar, a large modern city perched on the edges of the rainforest and the Roraima Basin. My 'company' had provided me with a penthouse suite complete with round the clock room service. No sleeping in the jungle getting eaten alive by bugs and exposed to deadly diseases. This would be a piece of cake!

The mere mention of cake always reminded me of Stephanie. The way her face lit up when she took that first sweet bite. _Damn!_ Focus Mañoso… I mean, Machado.

In Ramón Machado's world, there was no Trenton, and no Stephanie.

_**Three difficult months pass…**_

Stephanie's POV

I couldn't wipe the huge smile from my face. In my handbag, I had two body receipts. One was for a prostitute turned castrator named Rene Bell that amounted to $15,000 and one was for the notorious child molester, Kenny Travis, for $75,000.

Before today, I'd never made that much money _in an entire year_ of bounty hunting. Of course, I would only get a cut of the bond money; RangeMan took the rest for overhead. But I got a regular salary no matter what additional money I made through skips. It was nice no longer having to worry when I'd get my next paycheck or how much it would be.

The last three months of training had certainly paid off. Zero was with me when I made the apprehensions today, but the collars were solely mine and I didn't have a scratch or a piece of garbage on me. Why hadn't I listened to Ranger years ago and let him train me?

Zero and I had reached a mutual agreement after months of me fighting his controlling ways. In the beginning, he wouldn't let me do anything; I had to 'watch and learn.' Then, he made me do _everything_, to see if I learned _anything_. According to him, I hadn't.

So, we went back to him doing everything—until one day, we met Eleanor.

Our last skip of that pivotal day had been Eleanor Buttowski. Eleanor was a sixty-eight year old grouch and used a cane ostensibly for walking, but she also loved to wield it whenever anyone got in her way.

According to her file, Eleanor had forgotten to return a library book. When the librarian confronted her about it, Eleanor banged the woman over the head with her cane. Angry words were exchanged and the librarian picked up a hard-back copy of _'A Call to Arms'_ and threw it at Eleanor, hitting her smack dab in the face.

When Eleanor saw the blood dripping from her nose, she saw red, literally and figuratively. Pulling a Berreta out of her handbag, she fired off two shots through the tome _'Anger: Wisdom for Cooling the Flames'_, another round through a copy of _'Fearless Fourteen'_ that ricocheted through _'Loose Cannons, Red Herrings and Other Lost Metaphors'_ and finally, two last bullets lodged in the card catalog.

The cops were called and Eleanor was arrested on an assault charge and for discharging a firearm illegally. She made bail, but was a no show for her court date.

It was Zero's and my job to make sure Eleanor had her day in court. Currently, she was working at the mall at MobileManiac, a store that sold mobility aids. We went to the mall to pick her up.

Zero was in teacher mode, making me stand in the background and watch his technique. He approached Eleanor when she was demonstrating a mobility 'Scooter' to an elderly couple.

With his usual economy of words and expression, Zero introduced himself and explained to Eleanor that she needed to come with him.

When Eleanor waved him off and continued with her demonstration, Zero put his hand on the scooter's handlebars, effectively stopping it.

"Get your hand off the machine, boy," she yelled. "If I sell two more of these babies, I can afford a trip to Florida this winter."

"Ma'am, I insist you come with me now," Zero demanded.

Eleanor slapped at his hand, but Zero held firm to the scooter and reached back for his cuffs. She grabbed a small knitted bag that hung from her neck and jabbed Zero's hand with it. He jerked and collapsed to the carpeted floor.

Rolling my eyes, I plucked my stun gun off my utility belt and stepped forward. "Ms. Buttowsky, I represent your bail bonds company and I'd advise you to come with me. If you refuse, I _will_ give you the same treatment you just gave my partner."

I glanced at Zero. He'd stopped convulsing but was still lying on the ground, eyes open and focused on me.

With my attention off her, Eleanor stepped on the scooter's pedal and tried to run me over. Swiveling my hips and sidestepping (I knew that cowboy line dance class I took in college would come in handy), I let Eleanor pass me and then zapped her buttocks with my stun gun as she went through the store's wide doorway. The scooter continued a few feet out into the mall, but soon lost its momentum. Eleanor was ungracefully slumped over the scooter's handlebars.

I walked over and cuffed her before she regained her senses. I also removed her 'tea cozy-covered' stun gun from around her neck _Cute!_ Grandma Mazur would like one of those, maybe knitted in purple yarn.

Zero shakily got to his feet and shook off the effects from his stunning. Together we took Eleanor to the police station and, much to Zero's surprise, I kept quiet about the details of the collar when we returned to RangeMan.

After that incident, Zero treated me more like an equal partner. He still took the lead with me as backup when the FTA was considered extremely dangerous and weighed twice as much as me, but afterward, we'd talk and strategize how I could have subdued the skip if I'd been alone.

Bringing in Bell and Travers today was a testament to how well I'd learned Zero's lessons. Getting Zero to talk about something other than work was still a trial, but we were now comfortable as partners and I'd like to think he gave me grudging respect.

I sauntered nonchalantly into Tank's office and dropped the body receipts for Bell and Travers on his desk. Tank glanced at the two slips of paper and looked up at me. "Pretty proud of yourself, aren't you?"

"Damn skippy," I replied with a big grin. I sat down in the chair next to his desk.

"Zero was proud of you, too. He said Bell was armed and extremely aggressive, but you handled it quickly and professionally, disarming and cuffing her before things got out of hand." Tank added, "Zero also said she made him uncomfortable the way she stared at his… lower half." I grinned. With her boning knife in hand, Rene Bell's penchant for separating men from their manhood would make any male grab his privates.

Tank wasn't done with his comments. "And Travers, that was excellent tracking, though I wouldn't recommend using a company car as a battering ram. But in this instance, I'd say it was warranted. Zero said Morelli told him when they pulled Travers from the wreckage that he was higher than a kite and if he'd been able to get on the freeway with his Hummer, many lives would have been at stake. This time, you destroyed a vehicle for a good cause, getting a child molester off the streets."

"So, you're not going to dock my pay for the repairs to the SUV, like Zero threatened you would?"

Tank shook his head no and finished with, "Good job," as he put the receipts away.

I felt like beaming, but something was off. Something about his posture or expression had me on edge. Tank was obviously worried.

Funny how quickly I'd learned to read the subtle changes in the 'blank' facial expressions these ex-military types gave. If you knew what to look for, their 'blank' faces revealed tons of information about their moods.

"What is it, Tank?" I asked. I'd also learned that if I wanted to know something, I had to ask. They never volunteered information.

Tank let his eyes slide from mine, never a good sign. He was silent, but I could feel the tension rolling off him. He knew something that was eating him alive.

That's when I got that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I was beginning to hate my spidey sense. My heart felt like it was creeping up my throat. I knew if I had to talk, I'd choke. I spit out one word, "_Ranger?_"

Tank still wouldn't meet my eyes, but I saw a slight nod of his head. A strangled gasp forced itself out of my throat and my eyes stung with the sudden onslaught of tears.

"Tell me," I cried. My breathing accelerated and I was afraid I would hyperventilate if I didn't get control of myself. "Dammit, Tank, just tell me."

He slowly stood and came around to lean on the front of his desk. Finally, he met my now frantically darting eyes.

"This is unofficial and it can't leave this room," he began.

I froze. Nothing that started like that could be good news.

"Do you understand, Steph?" he asked.

_No!_ I nodded.

He stared at me forever before he finally said in a flat voice, "Ranger's MIA."

_MIA?_ "Missing In Action?" I said, my voice rising unnaturally high. "What exactly does that mean?" I could barely focus from the unspilt tears that filled my eyes.

"It means something went wrong and Ranger didn't show up where he was supposed to. I don't have details."

Something went wrong? _Ranger's missing?_ My whole body felt like it was on fire. I sprang out of the chair, waving my arms.

"Well, _get them_. Someone must know more? MIA? Does that mean he was working for the government? Our government?" I had to look hard to see Tank's barely-there head nod.

What was Ranger exactly? He certainly wasn't on any business trip. Was he a spy? Special Ops?

I started pacing and talking to myself. "I knew it. I knew something bad would happen. _Oh god, oh god, oh god_."

"Steph, we don't know anything yet."

I stopped pacing and asked, "How long?"

"How long what?" Tank asked.

"How long has he been missing?"

Tank blew out a deep breath. "This is not for ears outside this room, understood?" I nodded. "My source tells me two members of the team reached the extraction point five days ago."

"_Five days ago?_ Ranger's been missing _five days_ and we're just hearing about it _now_?" I screamed.

I tried to quiet my mind, but it was racing. Team? Extraction point? Ranger had to be Special Ops. I wasn't surprised. Nothing about Ranger surprised me anymore.

Tank's eyes closed for a minute, trying to gather patience so he could deal with a hysterical novice to this covert spy stuff.

"We wouldn't be hearing about it now, except I have a source I can trust."

"Who is your source? No, forget I asked that. Does his family know?"

Tank shook his head.

"They don't even tell his family? What kind of people are they, that they don't even let his family know?" I started pacing again.

"Steph, if the Venezuelan government puts two and two together and has any proof that the U.S. sent spies into their country, it could cause an international incident of far-reaching proportions. The U.S. cannot acknowledge that Ranger was working for them. They also can't formally tell the Mañoso family that Ranger is MIA. Ranger knew all this; he accepted it as part of the job."

I couldn't believe all this. And I was angry at how calm Tank was. I lashed out, "Don't you dare speak about him in the past tense. There has to be more. You have to know more?"

Tank ran his hand over his bald head and stared at the floor before meeting my gaze. "Ranger and another man were assigned to finish the last part of the job and it sounds like they were successful, but something must have gone wrong at the last minute and both of them have disappeared. There's been no contact."

"Didn't they look for him? See if he was wounded or captured?" I cried, not understanding. "I thought they never left anybody behind."

Tank sighed. "If this was an Army Ranger mission, we would have scoured the area until we found him, but the mission he's on is different. Steph, I don't know the details of his mission, but I do know that if something goes wrong, the government will disavow all knowledge of the operation. They _can't_ look for him."

I continued to pace and mutter to myself, my mind racing through a million scenarios before going to the darkest of dark places. _He couldn't be…?_

Suddenly, I stopped moving and both my hands flew to my mouth. "_Omigod, no, no, no_."

I doubled over and was sick. I watched my vomit splatter all over Tank's gleaming hardwood floor. I couldn't stop; I started dry heaving.

Tank came to me and tried to hold me, but I was approaching hysteria. I struck out at him, hitting him in the chest. Gently but firmly, Tank folded me in his arms, my face buried in his massive barrel chest. I let the tears come. With the tears came racking sobs.

0o0o0o0o0o

I don't know how long I cried or how long Tank held me. When I woke up, I was coherent again, but felt like crap. Bobby Brown and Lester Santos had joined us in the office. Tank, Bobby and Lester were Ranger's closest friends. They were also his business partners.

The guys were huddled together, quietly talking until I sat up on the couch.

Bobby came over and sat next to me. "How are you feeling, Steph?" he asked. Bobby served as RangeMan's medic, a job he'd held in the Army. He had the right temperament for it, unlike most of the macho men RangeMan employed. Bobby looked like all the rest of the hard-muscled, hard-minded men, but there was an inner gentleness about him.

"I'm okay," I lied. "Do we know any more about Ranger?" I asked.

Tank shook his head a fraction. Bobby and Lester stared at the floor. I glanced at the floor, too. It was clean as a whistle. Someone must have mopped up my barf. My mouth was dry and my throat was sore. I asked for some water and Lester promptly retrieved a bottle from Tank's desk and handed it to me. He sat on the other side of me and lightly stroked my back.

The past few months, I'd become friends with many of the men I worked with. I hadn't told any of them about my last conversation with Ranger, but they seemed to know about it anyway. At least they treated me as if I was someone special to Ranger, and not just another employee.

Looking at his three best friends, I wondered how they could be so calm. I was still shaking inside and trying to wrap my mind around Ranger's trip or mission or whatever the hell he was on.

"Well, we can't just sit here. Let's go find him," I said, as calmly as if I'd suggested we go to Point Pleasant and pick him up. No one looked at me, but they all exchanged some weird signal between them.

Tank finally spoke. "Steph, we can't. For starters, we don't know where his mission was located."

"Can't your source find out?" I asked, not comprehending all this secrecy stuff. A man's life was at stake. The man I loved. And wanted a shot at having a future with. There had to be a way to get the information we needed to find Ranger.

Tank sighed and I knew I'd asked a dumb question, but I didn't care. I folded my arms across my chest and stared back.

Tank sighed again and explained, "Say we discover which country he's in and a little more about what the mission entailed — if we go there asking questions, I guarantee we'll be stopped by the local government, police force or army and possibly imprisoned. Given the little I do know, those same forces will be looking for Ranger, too. They will not look kindly on any one else asking about their Number 1 most wanted fugitive."

Okay, the situation was a little daunting, but not impossible. "Then that's all the more reason for us to go there and help him escape." I rationalized.

All three guys raised their eyebrows at me. Tank challenged, "_Us?_ If we do go, and I'm not saying we will, _you_ will not be going with us."

"Why not? I can go places you can't and get away with dumb questions. I can talk my way out of any situation," I bluffed.

"It's too dangerous and you would only slow us down. Steph, you have no experience in doing this kind of sensitive work. You have to blend in and you're not very good at blending in."

"And a 6' 6", 300 pound black man blends in where?" I retorted. That got a hint of a smile out of Bobby and a snort out of Lester, but Tank wasn't buying it.

Tank straightened up. "I'm waiting for my source to contact me again. He's discreetly searching for additional information. We'll talk about this again when we know more. For now, keep this discussion to yourself."

Bobby and Lester nodded and filed out of the office. Tank glared at me until I rose and trudged out, too. Tonight would be a long sleepless night.

_AN: Thanks to sonomom for her help with Ranger's POV and a shout out to DyanSwan for her book suggestions that took a hit when Eleanor Buttowsky started shooting a gun in the library._


	11. Chapter 11 New Friends

**Chapter 11—New Friends**

_Throw your dreams into space like a kite, and you do not know what it will bring back, _

_a new life, a new friend, a new love, a new country._

Joran's POV _(sort of)_

The young boy was not where he was supposed to be, but the loud, wheeled machines coming and going around the mine fascinated him. There was nothing like them in his world of the Ye'kuana (_the River People_), only in the world of the Iaranave (_foreigners_).

He knew he was supposed to be gathering the special plants that grew along the river, but he'd been searching for them most of the day and he'd become bored.

He couldn't help himself from peering into this other world so different from his. When his dugout canoe took him near the noisy mine that afternoon, he'd stopped and hid the canoe and made his way to the tree – his lookout tree – so he could safely observe the foreigners.

Now, he sat high in that tree overlooking the surrounding jungle, and the mine and the wonderful metal machines that so intrigued him. He watched and smelled the wheeled machines as they moved across the cleared area. They didn't smell good, but they could go fast, faster than any canoe skimming the rapids.

It was late in the day and many people were coming out of the mines and climbing onto the machines. When no more people could fit on them, the wheeled machines roared to life and moved rapidly down the path toward the big village at the bottom of the mountain. Joran had never traveled that far away from home. The mine would soon be empty except for the guards. Whatever was in the mine was precious to these foreigners and they never left it unguarded.

He'd been warned to stay away from the mine by both his father and by his cousin, Illiana. Illiana said the men were not friendly and would hurt his people if they came close to the mine. She also warned him never to go into the mine, something about there being poison in the rocks.

He liked Illiana. She was very beautiful and very nice to him. She always gave him sweets and on her last visit she gave him his most prized possession — a small knife that folded in on itself. He wished she lived in his village or even better, that he lived with her in her village. She said she lived in a very big village far away with more people than Joran could even imagine. He loved hearing stories about the 'outside' world.

She only visited his tribe every few moons, and when she left, she took the special plants his people had gathered from the jungle. In return for the plants, she brought life-giving medicine and special things like knives and metal vessels to cook and store food. But it might be many moons before she would come again.

Looking back toward the mine, Joran saw that all was quiet now. The two guards were standing outside the mine entrance and had smoking sticks in their mouths.

Out of the corner of his eye, Joran saw movement along the mountainside. Two strangely dressed men, one with long hair, were moving quickly and quietly toward the mine's entrance. The two guards hadn't noticed anything yet. Joran was intrigued, because none of the men who worked at the mine wore clothes like that or had long hair. The only men Joran had seen with long hair were the men of his own tribe.

Joran wondered if these new men were playing some kind of game or if they were from a rival village and were going to steal what was in the mine. He settled in to watch.

The strangers slipped behind the machines parked next to the mine's entrance and Joran couldn't see them anymore. The guards must have heard something though, because they suddenly moved toward the machines with their guns drawn. Joran heard sudden loud sharp noises. He'd heard gunfire before and knew whatever was happening down there was dangerous and deadly. In spite of being frightened, he couldn't turn away.

He saw one of the strangers collapse against the wheeled machine, then there was more gunfire and both guards dropped to the ground. The two strangers, one holding up the other, ran into the mine.

Joran sat in his tree and waited for many minutes. Suddenly, there was a loud booming sound followed by a deep rumbling and then clouds of dust came billowing out from the mine's entrance. Even the tree Joran sat in swayed and trembled.

Puzzled by what he'd seen and felt, Joran waited anxiously for the two strangers to come back out of the mine. He looked toward the two guards. They hadn't moved from where they'd fallen. Were they really dead? Though a little scared, Joran stayed perched in his tree until the sun was nearly gone from the sky before he saw any movement.

Finally, he saw the long-haired man stumble out of the mine and fall to the ground. There was no sign of the other stranger. Slowly, Joran climbed down the tree and crept toward the open area, debating whether to help the man, but he was afraid. He was pretty sure the strangers had killed the guards.

As he crept closer, Joran saw that the man was bleeding and badly injured, but he was moving again and he pulled himself into one of the wheeled machines. Joran heard the noise the machines always made when they moved, except this time, the machine was moving in stops and starts. Joran followed the machine and the man as they moved slowly down the cleared path away from the mine. But soon, they were moving too fast for Joran to keep up. He watched them speed away.

Turning back toward the mine, Joran knew he wanted nothing to do with the dead guards. He realized he shouldn't have come to the mine. It had been a confusing and interesting day among the foreigners, but it was time for him to begin the journey home.

Joran turned toward the river and climbed down to the water's edge. He pulled his canoe into the water just as he heard something crash through the brush upstream. There was an unmistakable sound of a large object hitting the water. He started paddling upstream to see what had caused the noise.

He'd only gone a short distance when he saw the top of the wheeled machine disappearing beneath the water. Then he noticed the body of a man floating face down toward him. Paddling rapidly, Joran pulled alongside the body and grabbed the man's long hair. It was the injured stranger. Joran held the man's head out of the water with one hand while he paddled to shore with his other.

The stranger was still breathing, but he was unconscious. Joran couldn't leave the man alone and injured in the jungle. He was a large man and it took all of Joran's strength, but he finally got him in the canoe.

His father would know what to do. Joran began the long paddle home.

_**A few days later…**_

Nevi's POV_ (sort of__)_

_(All speech is in either Ye'kuana or Spanish, but for obvious reasons will be written in English, unless some of you speak Ye'kuana and are willing to translate for me.)_

He lay there so still, just as he had for the last four days—since her little brother had brought him to their village. Nevi thought he might be related to one of their sister tribes, he looked so much like the Ye'kuana: tall, light brown skin, dark straight hair and angular facial features. Most of the other people in the region were very short, dark-skinned and had flattish faces.

In spite of the man's injuries, it was obvious he was an extremely strong, handsome man, and a great warrior. He had numerous old scars that spoke of many battles and great heroism.

His new wounds were terrible and had nearly killed him. But Nevi's grandmother's surgical skill and knowledge of medicinal remedies had saved him.

Nevi smiled when she thought of Joran coveting the metal fragments their grandmother had removed from the man's wounds. He now carried them around his neck in his amulet bag.

Not all the metal shards had been removed; some were too deep, especially the ones lodged in the man's head. But the wounds were healing well without swelling or redness. What was puzzling was why the man hadn't woken yet. No one sleeps for four straight days.

Nevi had been given the task of caring for him and she'd managed to get a little weak broth into him. She'd just finished bathing him. He was great in all things, she noticed. Nevi blushed at the thought.

Nudity was common in the village; the entire tribe bathed in the river every evening. And each family's hut consisted of one large room, so husband and wife had sex in the same room their children slept in. It was a normal way of life.

But there was something about this man that stirred her blood. She was still a virgin, but it would soon be time for a man to be chosen to initiate her in the ways of love between a man and a woman. This man might prove to be an interesting teacher.

Nevi woke herself from her daydream. There were other chores to be done if her family was to have the evening meal on time. She gathered up the remains of the bloodied, tattered clothing their guest had been wearing and stepped out of the hut.

She came out into the light of day to find a commotion in her normally peaceful village. Nevi recognized the frenzied cries of her people. Strangers were coming. She ran to her father.

"What is it, Father? Who is coming?"

He put his arm around her shoulders to reassure her, but his face was grim. "Soldiers have arrived in a great boat powered by a machine. They are many and they are armed with powerful weapons."

In villages across the region, Juan had seen the violence and misery soldiers could wreak on a peaceful people. "They may be coming for our guest. There is no other reason for them to bother us. I do not want to bring trouble to our people, but it is our obligation to protect our guest. I just do not know how."

Nevi was only a few inches shorter than her father and he was a very tall, muscular man, even for the Ye'kuana. The other men of the tribe were shorter, but equally strong and brave.

"We are willing to fight if necessary, Father," she spoke with the idealism of the young. At only seventeen years of age, Nevi had never experienced a battle, except those between old Yani and his wife of sixty years.

"I hope it will not come to that, my daughter," Juan said softly, dropping a light kiss on her forehead.

She asked, "What if he is one of them and they come to take him home?"

Her father shook his head. "He is not one of them. From what Joran has told us, he is more like us than the soldiers if he tried to destroy that foul mine. I hate to let the soldiers take him, but we have no time to hide him and we cannot fight against their weapons." Her father was distressed; as tribal leader he felt great responsibility to protect all people under his care.

A smile broadened her face and she cried, "Father, I know how we can hide him. We hide him in plain sight. Leave it to me. Do not worry. Let the soldiers find him. They will not take him."

The tall man stared after his daughter as she ran back to their family's hut. Then he turned to confront the soldiers as they entered the village.

The soldiers were climbing up the riverbank as Juan and the other men of the tribe blocked their path. In Spanish, Juan challenged the men, "I am Juan Parduhn, leader of this tribe of the River People. If you come in peace, welcome. If not, leave… immediately." The other men of the tribe closed ranks around their leader.

One of the soldiers stepped forward and raised his handgun, pointing it directly at Juan's head. The other soldiers raised their rifles toward the rest of the tribe.

The soldier in the lead spoke threateningly, "Unless you wish to lose your head, stand aside, heathen. We are searching for an enemy of Venezuela, a rebel who has caused great destruction. If he is not here, we will leave you in peace. But if we find you have been hiding this traitor, we will destroy this village."

When Juan didn't move, the soldier struck him with the butt of his gun and pushed him aside. With rifles trained on the rest of the men, the soldiers entered the village and began searching each hut. When they came to the tribal leader's home, Juan again tried to stop them, but was shoved to the ground. Two of the soldiers entered with guns drawn while the others held back the angry villagers.

What the two soldiers saw stopped them in their tracks.

A young naked woman was straddling a prone naked man and undulating her hips over his in a seductive rolling motion while caressing the man's chest with her hands. Her head was thrown back as if in ecstasy, her long black hair cascading around her shoulders and full breasts. The nude bodies of both man and woman were painted in identical black markings consisting of two intertwined bands around each arm and thigh, with double chevrons painted on their faces and chests.

The man's eyes were fixed on the woman moving over him until he sensed the presence of the soldiers. Immediately, he pulled the woman behind him and attempted to rise. The woman pushed the man back down on the bed and stood up to confront the soldiers. The soldiers stared at her naked body and couldn't help their own bodies' reaction to her nubile beauty.

She saw her father enter the hut behind the soldiers. His eyes grew big, but he shot his daughter a knowing look. He knew the significance of the markings Nevi had painted on herself and the injured man. He could also see his daughter had placed the markings to cover the man's many wounds.

Her posture was proud, her voice furious. She showed no awareness of her nudity. In clear Spanish, Nevi demanded, "What is the meaning of this? No one is allowed to interrupt the consummation of a newly wedded couple. Leave this sacred place at once."

From behind her, in a soft but threatening tone, the man spoke his first words since arriving in the village. He spoke in Spanish and directed his threat to the two men with guns. He uttered, "Listen to my wife or you won't live to regret it."

The soldiers looked again at the man lying on the bed. With his skin color, long hair and pagan markings, he definitely looked like he belonged to this primitive tribe. He'd propped himself up on one elbow and he looked angry, not injured. The man they were looking for would have multiple injuries, given the amount of blood found at the scene of the mine explosion. This man was clearly enjoying the attentions of his new wife, proven by his immense erection. The soldiers retreated under the glare and continuing harangue of the beautiful, naked woman.

They shoved past Juan, offering no apologies, and left the hut. Looking around in disgust at the simple, even crude lifestyle of the Ye'kuana, the soldiers promptly left the village. Juan immediately rushed back into the hut to find his daughter dressed once again and trying to calm their injured guest.

"Daughter, you are the clever one. The soldiers have gone. What made you think of the wedding rituals?"

He saw the blush that crept up his young daughter's neck and cheeks and he looked down at the handsome man exhausted from his minimal exertions. The man's eyes closed as he drifted back into a deep sleep.

Juan gave a knowing nod and realized he would have to watch this situation closely.


	12. Chapter 12 Old Friends

**Chapter 12—Old Friends**

_Make new friends, but keep the old,_

_One is silver, and the other's gold._

Tank's POV

My stomach was roiling as the commercial flight we'd taken finally approached Ciudad Bolivar. I hated flying. Not a good reaction for someone who'd had to fly regularly as part of his career.

I looked down the aisle at Santos and Brown. As usual, Santos was flirting with the stacked flight attendant and Brown had his nose in a book. We were posing as three thrill seekers on an Amazon jungle adventure. All my previous experiences of the Amazon could be classed as life and death adventures. Why should this one be any different just because Uncle Sam wasn't paying for it?

Glancing at my watch, I figured Stephanie should be arriving at the Trenton office about now and realizing we left without her. Since she didn't know our destination, I wasn't worried she'd follow us. Though I knew she'd give me hell when we returned—unless we returned with Ranger alive and well.

She and I had never discussed it, but I knew Ranger and Stephanie had finally opened up about their feelings for each other that last day before Ranger went into the wind. It was about time, though both their timing sucked. They deserved the opportunity to see if they could make it as a couple and I'd do everything in my power to make sure they had the chance.

My stomach growled loud enough to raise my neighbor's eyebrows. To keep my mind off puking, I went back over the details my source had been able to uncover about Ranger's mission and his disappearance.

We knew he'd been based out of Cuidad Bolivar for the last three months. He must have been successful in obtaining the data he needed, because it was reported he and his partner had moved to the final part of the operation: damaging the uranium processing plants and the mines. The two team members who made it to the extraction point had been able to obtain their part of the data, but they weren't able to effect any damage to the other factories or mines. No one knew what had happened to the fifth team member.

Our first job was to find out what path Ranger took on his last few days. My source had told me there'd been a single report of an accident at a local cement plant and then all news of it had been hushed up. So, the 'cement' plant was our first destination.

As soon as we landed, we planned to rent what passed for a jeep in this country and meet with a contact I'd arranged before we left. Our contact would provide us with prohibited guns, knives, grenades and C4, among other things. You just never knew when you might get invited to a party and it wasn't good manners to arrive empty handed.

However, I hadn't counted on one thing. I hadn't counted on a certain blue-eyed, curly-haired wild card. Waiting for us as we disembarked the plane, jumping up and down like a pogo stick, was Stephanie!

_How in the hell…?_

She even carried a bunch of balloons, one that read, 'Bienvenidos!' [_Welcome!_] _She had some nerve._

Never underestimate the power of a woman denied. I should have known better than to tell Steph she couldn't do something; it was like waving a red flag in front of a bull. _But how did she know where we were going… and how did she get here before us? _I guess she really did pay attention when Hector was instructing her on how to plant bugs in phones and buildings.

"Took you guys long enough," she smirked, hugging each of us in turn.

Trying to look as stern as I could, I started my reprimand, "Steph, you shouldn't have come…" but she was having none of it.

She held her hand in my face, palm out. "Don't even go there, Tank. I should be the one furious with you for leaving me behind. Look, I'm already here, and on my own dime I might add, and you aren't sending me home. I can help. Just give me a chance." Her expression went from hopeful puppy dog to determined intractable female.

I let out a big sigh. I'd never sighed so much in my life since Stephanie had come into it. Reading my mind, Lester gave out a big '_whoop!_' and slung his arm through Steph's and the four of us left the airport.

After picking up our rented vehicle and getting our 'special' gear from my contact, we motored into town. I drove while Bobby and Lester filled Stephanie in on the latest Intel we'd obtained. I followed up that discussion with some stern instructions, warnings and ultimatums for Steph. Bottom line: _Do as I say_. She nodded through all of it, but I didn't have a good feeling she was really listening.

Within an hour we found the damaged 'cement' plant located along the banks of the Orinoco River several miles upstream of Cuidad Bolivar. Surrounding the large complex was a ten-foot chain link fence topped with razor wire. A lot of security just for cement.

The largest building looked like it had collapsed in on itself. Sticking out of the building's debris were the remains of several large metal structures that looked like enormous vats. In another building, there was a large gaping hole in one wall, but it was now boarded up. The entire facility was well guarded by several dozen soldiers. Again, the question: Why all the security and why would soldiers be guarding a cement plant?

Bobby, however, was able to get a glimpse of one of the building's insides by ziplining over to the roof from one of the enormous trees lining the riverbank. He said it looked like a simple warehouse and there was definitely no cement in there, but there was abundant evidence of yellowcake residue, the processed form of uranium.

Posing as tourists, we casually questioned several of the locals living in the area and found out about ten days ago there'd been an explosion of some sort, though from the witnesses' descriptions it sounded more like an implosion. And that sounded like Ranger. He would want to minimize the danger of radioactive waste getting into the river.

The people we talked to said the local police hadn't found anyone who'd seen anything suspicious the day of the explosion and no one had been arrested yet. So for us this was a dead end, except we now had proof Ranger and his partner had succeeded in their mission, at least to this point.

Santos really came through with the next bit of news. While Bobby and I spoke Spanish too, Lester had just the right easy going style to get strangers to open up to him. He slummed for the rest of the day and got the Intel we needed from the underground news network.

Lester heard about unconfirmed reports of an explosion at a 'gold' mine deep in the Roraima Basin, though no official report had ever been released. We assumed the gold mine was actually a uranium mine.

Lester even got directions to the mine from someone who used to work there. The mine was located just outside the Parque Nacional Jaua-Sarisariñame [_National Park_]. The man told Lester there were dirt roads all the way to the mine's entrance. I was sure that route would be heavily patrolled since the explosion. This miner confirmed, after Lester slipped him a wad of bills, the ore being mined was not gold and miners had to wear special overalls and a radiation detection badge when working in the tunnels. He also said all local miners had been told the mine was temporarily closed, with no reason given.

After checking in to a small hotel in the city, we poured over the satellite maps and found no alternate roads we could use to access the mine. The area the mine was in was a virtual wilderness.

I made a command decision to try to drive directly to the mine and use our thrill seeking cover as 'lost hunters' trying to find our hunting guide. We were going to be 'big game hunters' from New York City hoping to bag ourselves a trophy jaguar. The stereotypical ugly American with lots of money to throw around. Jungle adventure, here we come!

Now, the only problem was what to do with Stephanie. She was not the outdoorsy kind of girl and I couldn't imagine her trekking for days through the jungle, if that's what it came down to. I had no idea what dangers faced us and it would be a fine thing if we found Ranger, only to have him kill all three of us for putting Stephanie in peril.

We tried to talk some sense into Steph, but she wasn't budging, let alone going home. I didn't feel comfortable leaving her by herself in Cuidad Bolivar. Knowing Steph, she would go snooping in the wrong place and cause an international incident. One of us could stay with her, but we'd need all three of us if we ran into trouble. So, Steph was coming with us into the boonies of the Amazon jungle. Another big sigh.

It was the crack of dawn when we left the city the next day. To appease Steph for having to get up so early, we found a bakery on the way out of town and got her some coffee and anise golfeados and chocolate caracolas. We also stocked up on several loaves of bread and a couple dozen empanadas for lunch.

The jeep was stocked with extra cans of fuel, two spare tires, a front-end winch and a zipper cover in case it rained. We would need all of it. We drove as fast we dared over rough primitive dirt roads traveling deeper and deeper into the rainforest. By afternoon, all towns and villages had disappeared and we hadn't seen anyone else on the road in hours. As the saying goes, we weren't in Kansas anymore.

I could see Steph fidgeting, so I stopped at a wide spot to let her relieve herself. There was nothing but green underbrush that required a machete to move even a few feet off the road. She looked at me like I was crazy.

"It doesn't get any better than this from now on out, Steph. Get used to it," I told her. She'd actually done better than I'd expected. She hadn't complained all day. In fact, she hadn't said much of anything all day. I think the sheer immensity and foreignness of South America and the rainforest had cowed her. That, and worrying abut Ranger.

Steph pursed her lips and grabbed her large tote bag. Pulling out a roll of toilet paper she'd 'borrowed' from the hotel, she climbed out of the jeep and made us all turn our heads. I shook my head when I heard Steph cry, "_Lester!_" as a chuckle sounded from the back seat. It was like dealing with quarreling siblings on a road trip.

It was dark when we pulled into our initial destination, the town of Arabelo. Whoever called this a town was an optimist. The settlement was beyond small and obviously poor. You could see quite a few ramshackle structures had been hastily built on the edge of town, probably to accommodate many of the mine workers trucked into this remote location.

The only place open was a small tavern that doubled as the post office and dry goods store. As we entered, Steph got quite a few stares from the locals, but she also helped to sell our cover story as clueless rich Americans on an Amazon adventure. Joining the few locals nursing their beers, we began by asking if anyone knew of someone who could guide us in our hunt for jaguar. We were glad we got no takers.

Again, Santos' easy social style gained us some crucial information. He explained we'd come from Cuidad Bolivar and were hoping to meet up with a friend who'd come to the region a few days earlier. Despite Lester's best social grilling, no one had seen anyone fitting Ranger's description in town the past two weeks.

Then Lester got the scoop on the mine explosion. It had happened after the crews had finished for the day and headed into town. Two men had been left behind to guard the facility. They'd been found the next day, shot to death.

It took another three days for workers to clear out the debris and reach the first shaft. There, workers found a third body. It wasn't anyone employed by the mining company. An autopsy revealed the man had died from bleeding out from a gunshot wound, though he had also sustained life-threatening injuries from the explosion. The killing bullet had come from one of the guards' weapons. The body was still unidentified and was being held in the Venezuelan town of Puerto Páez. The man who told this to Lester could not give a physical description of the dead man, so we didn't know which member of the team had been killed.

When we relayed this bit of grisly news to Steph, I figured she'd lose it, but she surprised me. "Ranger isn't dead. I'd feel it if he was," was all she'd say.

Still unexplained, according to Lester's informant, was the large pool of dried blood staining the ground just outside the mine entrance and a missing jeep belonging to the mine. We interpreted that to mean one of the team had been wounded, but had survived the guards and the explosion and had left in the missing jeep. We could only hope it was Ranger.

But where was he now? If he'd escaped in a jeep, he would have had time by now to leave Venezuela — unless he was seriously injured or had been captured by soldiers or someone involved with the mining operation.

We convinced the owner of the tavern to let us crash for the night in a couple of the rooms out back. These flimsy shacks had been vacated by mine workers now on temporary hiatus until the mine could be opened again.

I pulled Stephanie aside before we retired to our rooms. I wasn't used to talking much and I definitely was not used to persuading stubborn women to do what I wanted. I also knew she was no longer intimidated by me, so fierce looks and towering over her wouldn't buy me anything.

I began, "Tomorrow, we're going deeper into the jungle and we need to get to the mine. I don't know what we'll find, but it could be extremely dangerous. We may have to leave the jeep and travel cross-country through the jungle. We'll be posing as big game hunters and you just don't fit that picture. I need you to stay here in Arabelo."

Steph immediately protested, "I could pass as a hunter. Women hunt too, you know. I can handle a gun…now. And as for hiking through the jungle…" Her voice trailed off toward the end and I knew I had her.

She knew she was out of her element. I jumped in with a suggestion I hoped would convince her that staying here in town might enable her to uncover valuable information. The town was small, there was no law enforcement presence and most people spoke only Spanish. I didn't think she could get in too much trouble.

Giving it my best spin, I said, "The bar owner speaks English and I would imagine there are a few other people in town who also speak it. I want you to pose as Lester's wife and ask the typical tourist questions about the area. You know, ask about the rainforest, the flora and fauna, the indigenous people—that kind of thing. Are there any other towns or villages in the area? We're looking for someplace Ranger might hide if he was injured or trying to avoid capture."

I could see the gears turning in her mind. She nodded, "I could do that."

Continuing, I cautioned, "Be discreet, don't go overboard. Remember, you're just a casual tourist from the States. By the way, if anyone asks, tell them we're from New York City, everyone has heard of it. We'll try to be back by nightfall, but if we don't return in forty-eight hours, get yourself back to Cuidad Bolivar and leave for the States pronto."

Steph's eyes grew as big as saucers and I think the reality of the situation we were in was finally getting through to her. She dropped her eyes and started to fidget.

"You think he's hurt, don't you, Tank? And it's bad, if we haven't heard from him?" Her voice had a catch in it, but there were no tears, for which I was grateful. "Where do you think he is? Is he lying in the jungle somewhere? Or did he make it to a town and he's holed up?

I shook my head. I'd learned not to speculate about Ranger a long time ago. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out a wad of bolivars [_Venezuelan currency_]. Pressing it into her hand, I warned, "Be careful, Steph. This is a rough town. Stay close to this bar, please."

Standing on tiptoe, she laid a quick peck on my cheek. "I'll be okay, Tank." With a wistful look, she said, "Don't get shot… please." She slipped into her room and quietly closed the door.


	13. Chapter 13 A Soldier Laid To Rest

**Chapter 13—A Soldier Laid To Rest**

_And I'm proud to be an American, where at least I know I'm free._

_And I won't forget the men who died, who gave that right to me. __~Lee Greenwood_

Tank's POV

The next morning, we reluctantly left Stephanie in Arabelo and wound our way toward the mine using the few dirt roads that had been carved out of the jungle to exploit its many natural resources. All three of us kept our eyes peeled for the missing jeep or anything that might give us a clue where the surviving team member had gone.

We could tell when we got close to the mine. The road was wider and we could hear the telltale whine of a generator.

I stopped the jeep and Lester slipped out and disappeared into the jungle. Bobby and I continued on to the mine.

All of a sudden, the dirt road we were on broke out of the jungle into a huge cleared area. We'd arrived at the mine. The cleared area was filled with the hustle and bustle of many men and machines working to clear out tons of rock and loose debris.

There was one lone wooden structure off to the side that served as the office headquarters. After so many days had passed since the explosion, if any new information was to be found, that's where it'd be.

We were immediately stopped by two armed guards. We needed to keep the guards occupied long enough for Lester to sneak in and look through the office. Giving our rehearsed spiel as lost hunters, we were relieved when the guards seemingly bought our story.

Turning off the engine, I stepped out of the jeep. I towered over the men and smiled inwardly as I saw their brief look of fear. While I was used to intimidating other men, I needed to use that power now in a subtle way—not threatening, just startling enough to keep them off kilter. I leaned back against the jeep and started talking about our 'hunting' experience asking if they'd ever seen any wild game in the area.

Bobby joined me, offering the guards some beer. They looked around to see if anyone was coming our way, and then took the offered bottles. They were taking long swigs and if we didn't slow them down, Lester wouldn't have enough time. I asked the expected nosy tourist questions about what had happened, gesturing toward all the mine debris.

The men were tight lipped at first, but after a few more swigs, told us about the explosion. They hinted that locals caused the damage. One of the guards sneered, telling us that several of the indigenous tribes had complained about the mine when it first went in, protesting that the mine tailings would pollute their 'home.'

So, the guards, at least, seemed unaware of the wider international implications of the mine's sabotage. We commiserated with them on the loss of two of the guards and asked if they knew who the third man was. Again, they alluded that the dead man found in the mine looked like he came from one of the local native tribes.

Bobby and I looked at each other, both thinking the same thing. Ranger could pass for a local. We had no idea what his partner looked like.

Just as we offered the guards a second beer, all hell broke loose.

Lester came storming backwards out of the office building, guns blazing from both hands. Someone within the office was returning fire.

The first shot had galvanized both Bobby and me. Before they knew what hit them, Bobby and I dropped the two guards where they stood with a strong right hook to the jaw followed by a quick chop to the back of their necks.

We relieved them of their weapons and covered Lester's race toward us, firing in the direction of the office. I let Bobby cover both of us while I leapt into the jeep and turned the engine over. Then someone started shooting at us from the mine entrance. We were exposed, out in the open. As soon as Bobby and Lester piled in, I gunned the jeep.

We roared out of the cleared area, but not fast enough. I felt a searing pain shoot through my left side. There was no time to slow down so I ignored the pain and concentrated on my driving. The road was rough and winding and these jeeps weren't built for speed.

I expected us to be pursued by someone from the mine, but I'd only seen jeeps similar to ours so I felt confident we could outrun them. Grinning, Lester reached into the equipment box and pulled out a couple of grenades, just in case.

All the way back down the mountain, I kept an eye on the road behind us to see if anyone was chasing us. Lester and Bobby scrutinized the surrounding jungle for any signs of previous disturbance or side trails or the missing jeep. We found nothing, but at the rate the jungle grew, if there'd been any disturbance, vines and other plants could have grown over it by now.

Bobby yelled back to Les, "You really must have pissed someone off. I thought you were the guy who could talk your way out of any situation?"

Lester replied, "Those guys were really grumpy when they found me digging through their files. They needed to lighten up so I 'persuaded' them to do a little dance with my Glock. Turns out their persuaders were bigger than mine." He grinned. "Well, we came down here for a little adventure, didn't we?"

Rolling his eyes my way, Bobby asked, "Before you got all sociable, did you find anything useful?"

Lester reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a Polaroid photo. Bobby took it and blew out a big puff of air. He showed me the photo and relief swept through me, followed by a moment of sadness. The photo was of a dead man covered in bloody wounds. It wasn't Ranger.

By the time we reached the bottom and turned onto the road back to Arabelo, I was feeling lousy. I reached back with my hand and felt my lower back. My hand came back covered in blood. Bobby immediately demanded I pull over.

He lifted my shirt up and whistled. "Looks like a through and through. Luckily, the bullet was low enough and missed your left kidney. Move over and let Lester drive. I'll pack the holes to stop the bleeding, but I can't do any more here. Can you hold out?"

"No problemo," I joked. Actually, I thought I was going to pass out, but there was no help for it. I just had to grit it out. I knew we couldn't stay in Arabelo long since it was the nearest town and it'd be the first place they'd come looking for us. As soon as we picked up Stephanie, we had to keep moving and hope we could lose ourselves in a larger town.

Getting shot like I did forced a decision out of me. On the off chance I didn't make it out of South America, I had to let Bobby and Lester in on the plan regarding Ranger's alias, especially now that we knew Ranger had made it out of the mine alive. The government would deny any knowledge of Ranger and he would need his alias and the papers we'd prepared to return to the States.

Swearing them to secrecy, I told Bobby and Lester about the safety deposit box that held the forged passport and other papers and I even described the detailed history we'd created for Ranger under the alias 'Marc Pardo.' The guys didn't seem surprised, just a little hurt Ranger had kept it from them.

It was still light when we pulled into town. We drove around to the back of the bar and parked next to Steph's room. Bobby and Lester helped me out of the jeep just as Steph opened her door. She let out a little scream when she saw me in my bloody shirt, but Lester put his index finger to his lips and she shut up, holding the door wide so we could enter.

I collapsed onto a rickety wooden chair and Bobby started to work on me. I told Steph we had to leave immediately and to pack her things. To my surprise, she took a deep breath, nodded and started throwing her stuff into her suitcase.

Bobby cut my bloodied shirt off and helped me shuck my pants. Lester brought in wet towels to clean me up and then he left to get the rest of our stuff from our room. Bobby disinfected the two new holes in my body and stitched me up. He also gave me a hefty dose of antibiotics and pain killers. Then he taped large compresses over the wounds. Lester returned with some clean clothes for me and the two of them helped me put on a clean shirt and pants. We were ready to get back in the jeep and on the road in less than ten minutes.

After her first glimpse of my bloody back, Steph blanched and sat on the edge of the bed, head between her knees, but she stayed strong and didn't faint or cry or get hysterical. I think what most surprised me, though, was that she didn't ask a million questions. I knew she was dying to, but she must have sensed the urgency in our actions.

Bobby helped me back out to the jeep. Steph loaded up all our gear and Lester ran to the bar to pay our tab. We were on our way back to civilization, though we wouldn't be returning to Cuidad Bolivar. In fact, we wanted to get the hell out of Venezuela as fast as we could. We also had one more task to perform.

Lester looked over the maps we had and found a fairly direct route to Puerto Páez. The city was on the border between Venezuela and Colombia. Puerto Páez was located at the confluence of the Meta and Orinoco Rivers. A sister city, Puerto Carreño, lay just across the Meta River in Colombia. That was our next destination. Our last task was to recover the body in the morgue in Puerto Páez without implicating ourselves in the mine sabotage.

When we were about ten miles out of town, Steph finally spoke up. She still looked a little pale. "What happened? Are you OK, Tank?" She and Bobby were sitting in the back and Lester was driving.

The pain killers were doing their job and I could at least talk again without wincing. "I'm alright. We ran into a little trouble at the mine, and now we need to get out of this area as soon as possible."

"I thought I told you not to get shot?" she looked at me accusingly, but with a worried set to her mouth.

Bobby put his arm around Steph's shoulders and reassured her, "Tank'll be fine. He lives for stuff like this."

I nearly rolled my eyes at that statement, but when Steph did it for me I almost laughed. Good thing I didn't. I'd probably split open Bobby's neat stitching.

Lester chimed in, "Steph, we now know for certain that the man killed in the mine was not Ranger."

She looked at him with a frown. "Of course it wasn't Ranger. I've been telling you all along Ranger isn't dead."

She sat forward, her voice excited, "But listen to what I found out today."

Lester turned in his seat and yelled back, "Yeah, Steph. Do tell, 'cause I'd like to hear what you did today that caused our tab with the tavern owner to double and for him to say we were no longer welcome in Arabelo?"

In the waning light, I saw Stephanie wince at Les' words. Her response was classic Steph. "Hey, it wasn't my fault." She slumped back into the seat, her arms crossed over her chest.

Bobby leaned into her shoulder, giving her a nudge. "Ignore him, Steph. Tell us what you found out."

She sulked for a few minutes and then regained her excitement. Sitting back up, hanging on to the back of Lester's seat, she proceeded to tell us what her 'casual questioning' of the local town residents produced.

"You know that jeep that went missing from the mine? Well, it's still missing with no sign of it anywhere, but another four-wheel drive, I think it's called a Tuna...?"

"Tiuna," Bobby corrected.

"Yeah, that. Well, one was found abandoned on a side road several miles from the mine. The rumor is the vehicle was a rental and it belonged to the dead man found in the mine." She smiled, pleased she could surprise us with new information.

I wasn't happy to hear about the Tiuna. As long as the mining company thought the sabotage was done by locals, they wouldn't be looking for other motives or suspects. But now, they'd be able to trace the Tiuna to whoever rented it, which would lead them to Ranger.

"The other bit of news I learned is that there are several small tribes of native people living in the region. I talked to an old woman… well, actually I talked to her granddaughter who translated for me, but the old woman said she was born in one of those tribes but moved to Arabelo when she married one of the locals. She said her tribe lives along the river that flows right by that mine."

Steph speculated, "It's close by, so even if Ranger was injured, he could have made his way there and could be hiding out until the furor over the mine explosion quiets down. The old woman gave me directions to her village. I think we should go check it out." Her face scrunched up when she told us there was no road or even a foot trail to the village. Steph said we would have to find someone with a boat that could navigate the river.

I had to admire her 'out of the box' thinking, but I figured when Ranger left the mine, he took that jeep. He would have had to come by the town of Arabelo. We hadn't found anyplace a jeep could have left the road. The jungle was just too thick.

The most obvious explanation was that he had come through town at night and continued on to the next larger town, at the very least. We were in one of the largest and most pristine rainforests in the world. Roads were practically nonexistent.

We had no more leads to follow.

And the mining company had surely reported our little gun battle at the mine by now. Descriptions of us would be broadcast to all Venezuelan law enforcement by morning. We needed to get out of this country ASAP. I could only hope Ranger had found his own way out of Venezuela.

Steph kept insisting we continue our search for Ranger, but the three of us finally convinced her it was too dangerous to stay in Venezuela.

We drove all night, hoping to avoid any troops or checkpoints. The only stop we made was to put up the canvas top on the jeep when it started raining. No one got much sleep.

We pulled into Puerto Carreño just as the sun was rising. It was a relief to be out of Venezuela and the rainforest, even if we had to return briefly to finish one last task. We planned to sleep all day and then when it was dark, we'd cross the border into Puerto Páez. We had a fallen soldier to take care of.

0o0o0o0o0o

As the plane left Bogota, three of us, at least, were in better spirits. We hadn't found Ranger, but with the help of a few grenades and C4 (Lester insisted we use our party favors), we blew up a makeshift morgue in Puerto Páez after we removed the body of the team member killed in the mine explosion. We were able to take the body, in a sealed coffin, and transport it to a contact in Bogota. From there, the body would be shipped back to the states under forged papers to a mortuary near Washington DC.

I'd let my DC source know about it and hopefully, the rightful family would be able to put their loved one to rest. As Rangers, the least we could do for a fellow Special Ops comrade was make sure he made it home to U.S. soil.

However, I didn't think that would appease Stephanie for us not bringing Ranger home, living or otherwise. She'd been silent for the rest of the drive into Colombia last night, especially after learning there'd been a gun battle at the mine and I'd been shot.

And I think the little 'fireworks show' we put on at the morgue shocked her. We were just letting off a little steam, but I don't think Steph saw it that way. In Trenton, we were a pretty subdued unit, but we hadn't always been that way. I think she saw a side to us she hadn't expected and it gave her something to think about.

During the flight home, she was deep in thought and oblivious to her surroundings. I knew she was worried about Ranger. So was I.

I let out a big sigh and settled in for the long flight home. My last thought before I drifted off to sleep was, "Where in the world are you, Carlos Mañoso?"


	14. Chapter 14 Who Am I?

**Chapter 14—Who Am I?**

_Sometimes the best way to figure out who you are_

_is to get to that place where you don't have to be anything else._

Ranger's POV

The last thing I remember I was floating. Floating on a cloud.

The next thing I knew I was laying on my back while a beautiful young girl straddled me. We were both naked and covered in strange black markings that just accentuated the erotic setting. The naked girl was exquisite in face and form and she was sensually rubbing herself over my very erect cock. What a way to wake up!

I stared at her as she moved on top of me, her head thrown back, a look of ecstasy on her face. It seemed unreal, though highly pleasurable. Until I sensed we weren't alone.

I turned my head and a stabbing pain shot through my body. My distance vision was a little blurry, but I could see two men standing in a doorway. They had guns drawn, which caused adrenaline to surge through me.

Immediately, I thrust the girl behind me and tried to get up. More pain, worse than the first pounded every inch of my body. I struggled to rise again, but the girl pushed my shoulders down before I collapsed on my own.

She was magnificent, facing down men twice as big as she was and they were armed. I strained to understand what she was saying. She was furious they had interrupted our marriage bed—_that explained a lot_—and demanded they leave. I added my own sentiments, but was surprised when they actually left.

My wife (?) grabbed a garment and slipped it over her voluptuous body, much to my dismay. She dropped down beside me, running her hands over my body. I thought it was more sensual play, but everywhere her hands touched me there were sharp stabs of pain. She seemed satisfied though, and proceeded to stroke my brow and whisper soothing words to me. Despite my best efforts to stay awake, I soon drifted off to sleep.

My next few memories were a blur of being shaken awake and having warm liquid poured down my throat. There were also times I remembered the girl rubbing me down with a wet cloth. I know my body reacted, remembering her naked and moving so sensuously on top of me.

Finally, I woke up and my head was clear and the pain had settled to a dull ache. I tried sitting up. I was a little dizzy, but felt better than I had before.

An elderly grey-haired woman appeared out of nowhere and squatted down in front of me. She was ancient looking, but sinewy. The t-shirt and skirt she wore were faded and frayed from repeated washings. Her feet were bare.

In a high-pitched squeaky voice, she asked me how I felt and I told her. Then it hit me, she was speaking in a language other than Spanish and I could understand her. I didn't know why that seemed odd to me, but it did. I asked her where I was and her reply was confusing. The words she used simply meant 'home,' though she wasn't referring to the structure we were in, but to a bigger place.

She left for a minute and came back with a small wooden vessel filled with a steaming brew of what smelled like meat broth. She thrust the bowl at me and wouldn't take no for an answer; my stomach echoed her demands. I obediently gulped down the tasty soup and got a big toothy grin from my hostess as my reward.

I tried to stand up, but she was able to keep me sitting with her bony fingers pressed down on my shoulders. Was this some form of magic or was I really that weak? I looked at my body and saw I was naked. I also saw many recent wounds, now scabbed over and healing.

_What had happened to me?_ _Why couldn't I remember? _

Another more pressing need made itself known. I told the old woman, in Spanish, I needed to relieve myself, but she seemed not to understand. She called out to someone and a man entered the room. She spoke rapidly to him and I understood only one word out of every ten.

The man looked familiar. He was tall with skin the same color as mine, and he had long dark hair and brown eyes. His body was lean, but very muscular. His only apparel was a leather loincloth. He too, was barefoot.

He smiled down at me and spoke, in Spanish, in a strong pleasant tone, "I am glad you are awake. We were beginning to wonder if you had a sleeping sickness. You must be eager to stand on your own two feet. Please, let me assist you."

Even with his help, I struggled to stand. My healing wounds were still sore, but mostly I felt incredibly weak. My host must have read my mind.

"You have been in bed for over two weeks. It will take you a while to gain your strength back. Let's limit this first walk to emptying your bladder. You can take a full tour of our village later, after you have eaten some solid food and are stronger."

My head was spinning a bit, so I allowed myself to lean on him as he led me outside. We walked a short distance to the edge of a cleared area where a deep trench had been dug a few steps into the underbrush. There were strong branches laced together in a shelf over the trench, which I assumed were for sitting on while relieving oneself. I chose to stand, even though I was none too steady on my feet.

I looked around at my surroundings as we slowly walked back to the building I'd been in. It was a large round structure made of mud bricks and a thatched roof. There was a doorway, but no door. There were several other buildings in the cleared area. Most were long narrow structures made of similar materials. Jungle loomed over and all around us.

There were people coming and going and sitting in the sun. All seemed to be doing something: carrying things, weaving, pounding, whittling. Even the children were busy bringing food and other items to their elders. Although I was naked, no one paid much attention to us other than a brief glance.

As a dizzy spell took over, I shut my eyes. Sounds popped out at me. I could hear voices and laughter and there was a background noise of jungle sounds—birds singing, insects buzzing. I also detected the sounds of a river nearby. It was, in a word, peaceful.

Just from that simple walk, I was exhausted and my host detected it. He hurried me along to the hut and helped me lie back down on my bed of loosely packed fronds covered with a brightly colored blanket. I settled myself into the bedding and a wave of extreme fatigue came over me.

The man sat cross-legged next to me and said, "My name is Juan. What are you called?" I didn't know if it was just my sheer tiredness, but when I asked myself that question, I had no answer. Then sleep took over all thought.

The next time I woke up, the young girl I remembered from earlier was in the hut. She was sitting near the doorway, sewing something. When I sat up, she turned to me and smiled. My heart started beating faster. She was a most beautiful woman in both face and form. And if my sketchy memory served me at all, she was my wife!

_Why couldn't I remember more?_

In one graceful movement, she stood and came over to me. Shyly, she handed me what she'd been working on. It was a length of soft, well-worked leather, embellished with bits of colored shell. I wasn't sure what it was, but I smiled up at her and thanked her.

When I just sat there, she took the leather from my hands and instructed me to stand. Now, I was acutely aware of my nudity. I was semi-erect even though she was fully clothed and hadn't even touched me. When she put her arms around my waist, _semi_ expanded to _fully_ erect. Her smile widened perceptibly.

I let her dress me in the leather loincloth like the man, Juan, had been wearing. It was a simple wraparound garment and very comfortable. I thanked her again and suddenly realized I didn't know her name. If she was my wife, how could I not know her name?

_Then I realized I didn't know my own name. _

I sank back down on the bed and she followed suit. My mind was racing trying to make sense of my situation. I couldn't remember _anything_ before waking up in this hut. NOTHING!

Try as I might, I couldn't remember my name, where I was from, my family, what I was doing here… nothing from my past. This didn't feel like home to me, but then again, _where was home?_ My first memory was waking up in this hut, with this girl… my wife?... and then men with guns? _Guns!_ I looked and then felt around the bed. I had no weapons… _where were my weapons?_ I swept the hut swiftly with my eyes, dizziness resulting when I turned my head too quickly.

I knew my face reflected my confusion, which threatened to turn into panic. I could feel my facial muscles automatically drop into a blank expression. The girl reached out and stroked my arm. When she spoke, her voice was soft and melodious. Her calm, gentle manner helped put me at ease.

She brushed my hair back from my face and her next words gave me more reassurance. "You must be wondering how you got here? It is quite the story, though I should let Joran tell you. He has been racing in here after each of his chores asking if you are awake yet."

"Joran?" I asked. It sounded like this was someone who might be able to answer my questions.

"Yes. Joran, my little brother. He is the one who found you and brought you to our village. You were in terrible shape with many wounds. Luckily for you, our grandmother, Yada, is a healer and she was able to treat you and make you well. Even she thought we would lose you, but you are a fighter and soon you will be strong and healthy once more." She touched my bicep, the bulge dwarfing her small hand.

I looked down at my body covered in nearly healed cuts and scrapes. "It sounds like I owe my life to your brother and grandmother. And I owe my gratitude to you for caring for me."

I couldn't help myself from staring at this young girl sitting next to me in this rustic mud hut. She was breathtakingly beautiful and dressed in a simple cotton dress that had seen better days. She wore no adornments except for a small leather bag hanging from a leather cord around her neck. However, I couldn't get my initial vision of her out of my head.

"I remember something about some men with guns and you telling them they were interrupting our wedding…?" I asked, trying not to mention what had happened between us in the moments before the men came, but the image was so strong. I clearly remembered this gorgeous girl naked and astride me.

The young girl blushed furiously and wouldn't meet my eyes. When she finally spoke, it was barely a whisper. "I was hoping you wouldn't remember that."

"Something like that is impossible to forget," I told her, laying my hand on hers.

Her smile was a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment. She had me totally enchanted. In a low whisper, she mumbled, "I can't forget it either."

Then her voice took on a stronger tone with a hint of sarcasm in it. "The men were soldiers, looking for someone who blew up their _precious _mine. The mine is an abomination and should never have been allowed to be. My people are grateful to you for what you did."

_What did I do? And why can't I remember?_

She continued, "I am grateful to you, too. My name is Nevi." She blushed again. I loved watching the deep flush creep up her neck and suffuse her cheeks with color.

"The soldiers were looking for you and I could only hope they wouldn't recognize you if I painted your face and covered your wounds with body paint in the manner of the wedding rituals. And I hoped even such rude dangerous men wouldn't challenge a bride and her new husband as they… consummated their marriage." She dropped her eyes. "Forgive my boldness, but the soldiers invaded our village and I didn't have much time to prepare. I was just grateful the wedding ruse and my angry bluff worked. You seemed to understand and played your role well." She gave me a slight grin or maybe it was a smirk.

"So, we are not married?" I asked, trying to keep the disappointment from my voice. I let my gaze drift down her body. Any man would be a fool not to want to bed this exquisite creature. She was not only beautiful, but also intelligent, principled and courageous. As I said, I was enchanted by her.

She threw back her head and laughed. Her smiles were infectious, and so was her laughter, though so much smiling seemed strange to me. I bowed my head for a moment before meeting her gaze.

Trying to joke with her, I quipped, "I am sorry our marriage was so short-lived, Nevi. It seemed to hold great promise." That elicited another throaty laugh from her.

As we continued to flirt, the man who earlier had told me his name was Juan entered the hut. I was actually relieved. It helped me regain control over both my thoughts and my body.

"You are looking much stronger today, my friend. Daughter, I think our guest is ready for solid food. Please bring him a substantial meal. And some cups of 'ale' for both of us." The word he used was unfamiliar to me, but I knew he was referring to a fermented beverage.

So, Nevi was his daughter! I was doubly glad he interrupted us. It wouldn't do for me to seduce the young daughter of my host. As she stood and walked out, Juan took her place next to me.

"You are feeling better?" he asked.

I nodded. His family had saved my life. I felt it was crucial to be honest with this man, that any concealment on my part wouldn't be tolerated. And I needed answers. My mind was screaming at me, _'Who am I?'_

I started with a thank you. "Your daughter tells me I was badly injured and you and your people took me in and nursed me back to health. I owe you my life. Please know that I am forever in your debt." Juan nodded respectfully.

I continued, not quite knowing how to say what needed to be said. "I am at a great disadvantage. I am hoping it's temporary and because I suffered a blow to the head or some such injury, but I can't remember my name. In fact, I can't remember anything before I woke up in your village."

There. It was out. I felt incredibly vulnerable, but I owed Juan the truth. I felt safe with him, like a long lost brother. For some reason, I didn't think I was a very trusting man, but I knew I could trust Juan.

His eyes widened and he didn't say anything for several moments. "You remember _nothing_?" he asked, searching my face, probably for any signs of dishonesty or deception. It's what I would do, I think.

"Nothing. The first thing I remember…" I hesitated, and told a discreet lie, "is the soldiers entering this house."

Juan slowly shook his head. "My memories are precious to me. I cannot imagine the loss you must be experiencing. Please know I will help you in any way I can," Juan said.

Nevi returned then with a basketful of food and drink. I watched her saunter through the hut toward us and hoped my body wouldn't react, because my _very first memory_ was of her naked and astride me.

I was grateful our attention and talk turned to our meal. I asked many questions and learned the names of many plants, fish and animals that were the staple of their diet. I learned they were of the Ye'kuana, the River People or People of the Canoes. Their small tribe consisted of seven families and there were about forty such tribes scattered over the region.

I asked more about where we were and learned we were in Venezuela. _Why could I remember that Venezuela was in South America and not be able to remember my own name or where I was from?_ It was like I could remember simple facts and languages, but nothing personal.

Juan continued talking as if to put me at ease and told me he had several children. His oldest son was in a large city to the north, Cuidad Bolivar, attending college and another daughter was married and living in another Ye'kuana village to the south.

As we talked, a young boy about ten years old rushed into the hut. He was about five feet tall and had a thin body and large feet that looked like he was gaining inches faster than the rest of him could keep up with. He had shoulder length black hair and flashing dark eyes. All he wore was a simple loincloth.

He came running up to me, talking a mile a minute. When he reached me, he was smiling broadly and kept patting my shoulder, assuring himself I was alive and well.

This was obviously Joran. I thanked him for saving my life and then asked him to tell me everything he saw and heard when he was at the mine. He obviously had told this story many times over the past two weeks. Joran settled himself on the hard packed dirt floor in front of me and began his tale.

From Joran's description of what happened to the guards, I realized I might have killed two men. I tried to keep my reactions from showing on my face when this little boy was telling such a gruesome story – about me and my actions – especially when I couldn't remember doing it. I didn't know what to think when he told me I came to the mine with another man and that man never came out of the mine after the explosion. Was this other man a friend of mine or a partner in my criminal activities? And was he now dead?

Was I really a criminal? These people seem to think I was a hero for what I did. I clearly was seriously wounded in the explosion and would have died if Joran hadn't pulled me from the river and if Yada hadn't treated me. I owed these people my life.

_But why would I want to destroy a mine? Who was I?_

I filed Joran's story away in my mind so I could study it later for a clue to my identity. Now, it was time to learn about this strange new world I found myself in.


	15. Chapter 15 Student

**Chapter 15—Student**

_If you aren't sure who you are, you might as well work on who you want to be._

_ Robert Brault_

AN: To reiterate, most of the Ye'kuana only speak their own language, but some of them also speak Spanish. Like most bilingual people, much of their speech flows back and forth between the two, depending on whom they are speaking with.

Ranger's POV

Time passed slowly here in the rainforest. Each day was spent performing a series of chores necessary if one wanted to eat and stay safe and healthy. The men hunted and fished and the women gathered fruits and edible roots, as well as grubs and other insects. The children had their chores, too. Everyone pitched in. Daylight hours were spent gathering and preparing food and at the end of the day, the entire tribe took a communal bath in the river.

At first, I couldn't do much more than care for myself. I spent hours sitting outside in the sun with the tribal elders, whittling my own wooden trencher, bowl and eating utensils.

I grew stronger each day and started going out with the men on their hunting and fishing forays. These trips required teamwork and trust and they held an element of danger. The experience felt familiar to me.

In the beginning, I was treated like a child since I didn't know how to make my own fishing pole or arrows and I capsized the little dugout canoe that even a small Ye'kuana child was expert at paddling. But Juan and his son Joran were patient teachers and I was a fast learner.

I chafed at my limitations and wanted to prove myself worthy of their mentoring. I had a sense I normally excelled at both physical and mental challenges, but my lack of knowledge of the rainforest and my still-healing wounds made me feel weak and inferior. The experience was humbling.

I still couldn't remember anything of my life before I woke up in this village, not even my own name. My past life was a black hole and I became frustrated if I spent too much time thinking about it, so I didn't. My days were full and I was so tired at night, I slept soundly.

Juan told me I'd cried out repeatedly during my long sleep, but there were only a few words he could understand. The one word I'd yelled most often was something Juan said sounded like "babe," which was close to 'baby' in Spanish. I'd also called out nonsensical words like "stefny," "tank" and "mark." While they all sounded familiar, I hadn't a clue what any of them meant.

Since I didn't know my own name, Juan selected the one name he was familiar with that I'd called out in my sleep and asked if I would let them call me Marco. I shrugged. It was as good a name as any.

In the evenings, I shared Juan's hut with his family. His wife had died a few years ago and his mother-in-law, Yada, took over the maternal duties. She was also the tribe's healer and wise woman. Joran and Nevi were Juan's only two children still living at home and they brought an entertaining energy into the hut. Living in a close family setting day in and day out felt strange to me, but I was enjoying the intimacy that came with such close interactions. I found that family life gave me a calm, peaceful feeling. Maybe I had a family somewhere?

Juan told me the Ye'kuana were a peaceful people. He said the last war they fought was when he was a young man. He thought it was a great waste of life and vowed he would put a stop to the senseless action. He became leader shortly after that and kept his promise.

Through our evening conversations, I found out the first contact the tribe had with the 'outside' world occurred when Juan was a little boy, over fifty years ago. A white woman, looking for special plants, came into their village. His people were fascinated by her. She had hair the color of the sun and eyes the color of the sky and her skin was so pale, she shone in the dark. She called herself Mary Butterwick.

Mary was a young, lone woman, but she was at home in the jungle. She didn't speak their language, but they managed to communicate in spite of that barrier. She was looking for plants that had medicinal value. Mary and Yada were about the same age and became fast friends. Yada and the healer at that time showed her all they knew. When she left, she gave them everything she'd brought with her, including her canvas backpack. One item in particular was highly treasured. It was a large machete. It was the first time anyone in the tribe had seen forged metal.

She came back year after year, each time gathering up a great quantity and variety of plants, insects and small animals. And each year, she brought the tribe coveted items from the outside world that greatly improved their lives. She slowly learned their language and customs.

One year, she came with a special backpack. It held her baby daughter. As the years passed, the baby grew into a beautiful young girl, the spitting image of her mother.

Juan told me when he was around ten, his younger brother, Gustavo, became very sick. He had a terrible disease and many of his people had died from it. Mary arrived when the healer of his tribe had given up all hope of saving the young boy. She asked if she could treat the sick child with a special potion that she inserted under his skin using a very thin metal stick. To everyone's surprise, Gustavo got better. The healed boy became obsessed with medicine and badgered their healer constantly, learning everything he could.

As the years passed, Gustavo and Mary's daughter, Devona, fell in love with each other. Mary helped Gustavo travel to one of the large cities outside the jungle and attend school alongside her daughter. Gustavo learned Spanish and eventually became a doctor.

He and Devona were married and they returned to the jungle and spent the rest of their lives treating the people of the rainforest. They had a daughter they named Illiana and they took her on most of their trips until it was time for her to attend college.

Juan choked up as he told me the last part of the story. About eight years ago, Gustavo and Devona disappeared on one of their trips to a remote village located at the bottom of a sacred tepui (tabletop mountain) and were never heard from again.

Speaking with great fondness, Juan told me that his niece, Illiana, still returned to carry on her parents' and grandmother's work, but she only came to their village a few times a year. It was because of Mary and Illiana that, at least this tribe, spoke Spanish and sent their young ones to the big cities to learn great things that helped their people.

He explained his people liked their simple life in the jungle, but they also valued things like modern medicine and machetes. So, they collected the special plants for Illiana and in turn she made sure they had the money they needed to pay for the items they valued.

Juan laughed, telling me the idea of money was a difficult one for his people to comprehend, but he could see it was good thing when you were dealing with city people who did not want to trade for fish or grubs.

He told me that Illiana also helped them sell their basketry and beaded clothing through something called the World Wide Web.

When he said that, an image of me sitting in front of a computer popped into my head, and then it disappeared from my mind. _How did I know what a computer was or what the Internet was? And how did it relate to my previous life?_ I had no idea. And then an amusing thought came to me. I wondered if Juan imagined the Web was filled with large spiders, like the webs found here in the jungle?

I hoped I had the opportunity to meet this Illiana. She sounded fascinating – a woman living in two very different worlds.

0o0o0o0o0o

I wasn't sure when it happened, but one day I woke up laughing. I didn't know why, I just knew I was happy. Life in the village was simple and it was rewarding.

Using my own hands, I created the tools I needed to feed myself and those of my friends. I was now bringing home enough wild game and fish to feed my 'family.' Along with my neighbors, we built a solid waterproof home for a newly married couple just starting their life together. And a secret pleasure of mine was that the children of the village treated me like a long-lost uncle.

A few weeks ago, all the men of the tribe had come together to manufacture one of the great canoes so crucial to the Ye'kuana's life and identity. Most families had smaller canoes they used daily to navigate the river to gather food and fish. But only once every twenty years or so did a tribe construct one of the massive dugouts that could hold dozens of people.

I'd helped to fell the enormous tree that would quickly become a canoe. The men taught me how to strip the bark and then use special tools to hollow out the core of the trunk. It was a monumental job, but it felt good to put in long hard days of physical labor. My body craved the workout. After soaking the hollowed out trunk in the river, we built a slow fire in the dugout to harden the interior.

In the evenings, Joran taught me how to carve my own paddle. No self-respecting Ye'kuana would let anyone else make his personal paddle for him.

The canoe-making process took a few weeks and the entire village came out to celebrate a first trip in the new tribal canoe. With Nevi sitting on a cross bar I'd made, I, along with all the men of the tribe, paddled our women upstream on an afternoon jaunt.

We stopped at a favorite place of the womenfolk. The men lazed around the riverbank while the women gathered a white substance that coated a nearby hillside. I learned later the hillside was a highly guarded salt deposit. Salt was a most valuable substance to the tribe and it greatly improved the taste of many of our foods.

With each day that passed, I learned more about myself and my abilities. I became a contributing member of the tribe. And it felt good.


	16. Chapter 16 Teacher

**Chapter 16—Teacher**

_I saw you the other day, but you didn't see me._

_I was the one hiding in the recesses of your mind._

Ranger's POV

I asked Nevi several questions about the salt deposits we'd visited and that started a whole new discussion as she told me other secret spots the women knew about; everything from mineral deposits to medicinal plants to aphrodisiacs. We spent hours talking about any number of subjects.

While Nevi hadn't attended any formal school, she had a wealth of knowledge about her environment and her people and she had a quick and curious mind. I enjoyed her company and she seemed to enjoy mine.

Even so, I was shocked when Juan came to me and asked me to sleep with his daughter. As my mind raced through the implications, Juan explained that normally there was a taboo against sex between the generations. This was because, in the past, one could never be sure if a young person might be their own son or daughter.

The Ye'kuana weren't a strictly monogamous people, though as they had more contact with the outer world, fidelity was becoming more common.

However, when a young person reached maturity it was customary for an elder to instruct the young person in the proper ways of love-making. The lessons were for a single night only and usually the elder was from another tribe. Both boys and girls were offered this opportunity.

Juan explained that Nevi was soon to turn eighteen and when Illiana returned, Nevi would travel with her to the city to attend school. Before she left the safety of her tribe, Nevi needed to know what was appropriate between a man and a woman. Nevi specifically asked for me to be her instructor in this special lesson.

Juan had agreed to speak to me for her. He told me he trusted me with his life and he trusted me to treat his daughter with respect. He also let me know that Nevi's grandmother would provide her with a potion that would ensure no children would result from the night's union.

My mind was reeling. Juan spoke so matter of factly about it, I didn't know why it shocked me so much.

I understood the great responsibility this duty implied. A poor first sexual experience could have lifelong repercussions. I also knew I was extremely attracted to Nevi. I'd had dreams of being with her, but knew I was twice her age. To be given this opportunity… no, this responsibility…

Several weeks went by before Juan approached me again. We were out on the river fishing and had filled our baskets with crabs and minnows. As we paddled the canoe back to the village, he broached the subject and asked if I was willing to be Nevi's teacher in love.

He wanted to make sure I was comfortable with the idea, now that I'd been living under the same roof with Nevi for several months. Juan explained that ever since his wife died, he'd worried about this aspect of his daughter's education. Normally, the mother arranged this lesson for her daughters, while the father made arrangements for his sons.

Knowing I was not raised Ye'kuana and that I had no memory of my own past, Juan asked if I had any questions. While I couldn't remember making love to a woman, I knew I would have no problem with the actual act. A fleeting thought had crossed my mind – what if I had a wife somewhere? But without any memories, my past didn't exist for me in this new life. The only question I asked Juan was if there were any tribal taboos regarding sex. He said the only actions not tolerated were a man using force on a woman and wanton displays of public sexuality.

If I agreed, then that evening I was to go to the small whitewashed hut at the edge of the village and Nevi would bring the evening meal for us to share. We would then spend the night together. Afterward, things were to return to normal and I was never to touch her in that way again. Juan was very clear on that point.

Shaking inside, I gave my consent. Our eyes level with each other, Juan and I shook hands and then embraced. The handshake was in deference to me being from the outside world; the embrace was a Ye'kuana ritual.

That evening, I chose to bathe by myself. On my way to the small hut, I picked one of the fragrant red flowers I knew were Nevi's favorite. Sitting alone in the hut, twirling the flower between my fingers, I wondered how I knew what to do. I had no actual memories of making love to a woman, but somehow I wasn't worried about it. I was more worried about hurting Nevi. She was a virgin and I didn't want to be the cause of any pain to her.

She entered the hut carrying a large basket filled with delicious smelling food. I leapt to my feet and took the basket from her. She looked beautiful. Her skin glistened and her long black hair shone in the waning rays of sunlight.

I offered her the flower and was rewarded with a bright smile that lit up my world. As she reached up with both arms to put the flower behind her left ear, the thin fabric of her dress tightened across her breasts showcasing her nipples. I could feel my own body hardening at the mere sight of her.

"You look very beautiful tonight, Nevi," I told her.

"And you are very handsome, Marco," she said, her voice light with amusement.

Dios, she was more at ease than I was. _Get a grip!_ Where did that come from? At the most unexpected times, thoughts, images and phrases that had no meaning to me flashed through my brain.

We sat cross-legged opposite each other and ate our meal, making casual conversation. I noticed she was not wearing her amulet bag. She explained that after tonight she would be an adult and would no longer need the protection of the charms a child wore.

By the time we got to the honey-dipped nuts, a traditional Ye'kuana sweet, I was calm and back in control. We gathered up the meal's remnants and turned to each other.

I stepped closer and took both her hands in mine. Looking into her eyes, I began, "I must ask you this, do you wish me to make love to you tonight?"

Without hesitation, Nevi returned my gaze and answered, "Yes. I have waited for this since the first moment I saw you. I am not afraid. I want this."

A combination of intense desire and deep affection for this remarkable young girl made me weak in the knees. I had to sternly remind myself that tonight was not about what I wanted or needed, tonight was all about introducing this exquisite young woman to the art of making love.

Gently cupping her face in my hands, I lowered my mouth to hers and lightly brushed her lips with mine. My arms wrapped around her and we stood there cheek to cheek letting the warmth of our bodies seep into each other.

Whispering in her ear, I told her, "I will be slow and gentle, but there will be some pain as I enter you this first time. The pain should be brief and it should be followed by a more pleasurable feeling. If it is not so with you, I ask that you tell me. I would not hurt you for anything in this world."

I pulled back a ways so I could look into her eyes. "That is your first lesson, Nevi. Communicate honestly with your partner at all times."

She smiled, "That is a valuable piece of advice, my teacher. I thank you."

She reached up and kissed me on the lips, her arms sliding around my waist. Nevi was not shy or timid; she was eager for this. At that moment, I knew this night would be a memory I would treasure forever, no matter if all my memories came flooding back to me.

We held each other and swayed gently, our feet slowly shuffling us around the small hut. Using the tips of my fingers, I inched the loose cotton dress she wore off her shoulders, kissing the soft exposed skin of her neck and then kissing across her collarbone and down. One last inch and the dress slid down her body and pooled around her bare feet.

She was entirely bare now except for the adornment of the single red flower framed in her smooth black hair. Still holding her around her waist, I stepped back and let my eyes feast on her beauty.

"You take my breath away, Nevi. A woman as beautiful and sensuous as you are wields great power over a man." To show her what I meant, I released the ties on my loincloth, letting it drop to the floor next to her discarded dress. Her eyes scanned down my chest, widening as she focused on my erect penis.

I continued, "If she uses that power wisely, both man and woman win what they want most." Placing my index finger under her chin, I raised her face until our eyes met once more. "Men want respect and sex. Women want love and to be loved."

"What if I just want sex?" Nevi teased, a grin playing around her sweet mouth.

She was smart and kind and funny and she deserved everything a loving relationship could bring to her life. I locked eyes with her and cautioned, "Before you choose that path, I want you to understand how limiting it can be."

Nevi's joking demeanor immediately dropped away and she focused on my words.

"Men tend to ignore their emotions, but it doesn't mean they don't feel. Women have a much harder time denying their feelings. Love isn't a requirement of sex, but it is highly desirable and much more satisfying than just rutting like animals," I explained.

"Well, I agree the rutting animals do it so quickly, it can't be that much fun," she grinned.

She was so young and thought of this like a game. I wanted her to have fun, but also understand that when love is an integral part of the act, the rewards are tenfold and are lasting.

If I knew that, did that mean I had loved someone? No time to ponder that mystery now.

"When a man truly cares for a woman, he wants her to experience the same pleasure he does. Making love is about giving _and_ receiving pleasure. Sex is about taking it, not caring what your partner gets in return."

Fixing her with my gaze, I questioned her, "Do you just want to _take_ from me or allow me to take from you? Or do you want the full experience, of both giving and receiving?"

Nevi nodded enthusiastically. "I want to experience _everything_. I want to know how to give what pleases you and how to receive what you give me." With a small smile, she confessed, "I used to listen to my parents at night. They both enjoyed making love to each other very much. I want that."

She always showed her adventurous spirit and willingness to try anything. Those qualities made me eager to give her only the best part of me. I could only hope that my lack of memories wouldn't impede me now.

"Then let me show you what I am talking about."

I let my hands glide up her torso until I cupped her full breasts. They were warm and soft, and their heavy weight stirred my blood. My thumbs began brushing back and forth over her nipples and I felt them harden, eliciting her first moan and my first near loss of control. Leaning over, I took one breast in my mouth and sucked her nipple between my tongue and the roof of my mouth while continuing to stroke her other breast. Her breathing came in shortened gasps.

I wanted to ease her into what was coming next. I wanted her to come first without me entering her. She would then realize she could experience sexual pleasure in many ways, not just the expected in and out thrusting so many men limited themselves and their partners to.

Using the element of surprise, I swept her off her feet and swung her round and round the hut. I loved hearing her laugh and I wasn't disappointed. She clung tightly to me, which was a bonus. Then I carefully lowered her to the bed and lay down next to her.

We kissed while I let my hands roam over her body, caressing each swell and curve of her nubile form. I followed my hands with my mouth, kissing and nipping her soft skin until she was quivering with each new touch, each stroke and caress, each nibble.

I moved back up to suck on her nipples while I let my hand stroke the slight swell of her belly and then drift down to her patch of soft curling hair. Taking my time, I used the heel of my hand to rub circles over her mound, increasing the pressure slightly with each rotation. Her hips began moving in tandem with my movements.

With a breathy voice, Nevi shared what she was feeling. "Marco, I like this. I like this a lot. I feel… something happening down there. Does it get better than this?"

I kissed her lightly and whispered, "Yes, Nevi, it gets much better. Are you ready for the next step?"

"Yes… oh yes. I am so very ready. Are you going to put yourself inside me now?" Her long fingers stroked my back and then wound themselves in my hair.

Kissing the sensitive spot behind her ear, I whispered, "Not quite yet. I want to make sure you are ready to receive me and I also want to give you the pleasure you deserve."

With her hand in my hair, she pulled my face to her and pressed her lips against mine. I parted her lips with my tongue and slowly explored her mouth. She did the same with me. She was an eager and quick learner. Her breathing quickened.

Breathing deeply myself, I knew we were crossing a threshold. Parting her folds with my fingers, I stroked one finger over her sensitive nub and was rewarded with a sharp intake of her breath. Then as I continued stroking, she let out a series of whimpers as her hips bucked under my light touch. I kept this up for many minutes, increasing the pressure, then backing off letting her calm down. Feeling she was ready, I dipped a finger inside her while continuing to stroke her nub with my thumb. The sounds she uttered drove me wild with desire, but I kept myself tightly in check.

Nevi was close to orgasm, bucking her hips away from my rapidly moving fingers. Pressing her hip down with my forearm, I sped up my movements and felt her walls contract around my finger as she let out a low guttural scream. Her legs straightened and clamped around my hand. A flush of pink swept across her skin. It took all my control not to cover her body with mine and take her right then, but I wanted her to have no distractions as she experienced her first orgasm.

I pulled her body up against mine and let her come down at her own speed. Her eyes were shut tight and she was rapidly murmuring to herself. When she caught her breath again, she opened her eyes and gave me the most beautiful smile.

With the resiliency of youth, she bounded up and pushed me flat, swinging her leg over my hips until she was straddling me, just as she'd done the first time I saw her.

This was my very first memory, not just of Nevi, but of my entire life as it existed now. It was a wonderful memory. Except this time it was for real and no soldiers would interrupt us.

"Oh, Marco, that was amazing… that was incredible… and glorious. Is it always as wonderful as that? Can we do it again? Can we?" she cried, her mouth opened in a wide grin. I couldn't hold in my laughter at her excitement.

For the first time that night, she was touching my cock and I found myself having to clamp down again on my control. As she sat astride me, I could feel her warmth and wetness cover my cock.

"Will you now show me what gives you pleasure? You are so much bigger than the men of my tribe. Are you sure it will all fit?" She asked this with a grin, not with the fear I would expect of a young virgin.

Then she started moving on top of me, rubbing her wet core over me. I knew I could only endure so much. I hadn't planned it, but maybe it would be better for her if she stayed on top and could then control how fast and deep I entered her. I explained this and she was all for it. Nothing about Nevi was timid.

I held my rigid cock straight up and let her slowly lower herself over me. I was expecting her to move down until we touched and then retreat, but Nevi was full of surprises. With one quick movement, she plunged her body down over mine until I was completely embedded inside her. She gave out a loud scream and collapsed onto my chest, but we remained joined together. I was where I'd longed to be for so many months, but I knew this moment was crucial for Nevi.

"Nevi, are you alright?" I asked, as I stroked her back. Willing myself to stay still, I lifted her head up only to find her smiling. She sat back up and placed her hands on my chest to steady herself. Just that simple movement tried my patience and I found myself taking deep breaths just to stay in control.

"I am fine, but you were right, there was some pain. And now…(she took a deep breath) having you inside me is a strange, new feeling, but _not_ an unpleasant one, though I can't believe all of you fits in there. I am most definitely _filled up_."

She gave a low throaty laugh and wiggled her hips, resulting in a series of indescribable sensations moving through my loins. "Now we move together, don't we?" Nevi asked.

She was so adventurous and unafraid. She would be a lifelong treasure to the man who won her heart. I felt a momentary pang knowing it couldn't be me. My role in her life would soon be over. But not yet.

I moved my hips ever so slightly, rocking into her and heard her gasp. Her hands splayed across my chest, she pulled her hips up off me and plunged down again. I was in heaven. We got into a simple rhythm; me slowly rolling my hips and she lifting and then dropping over me. Nevi threw her head back and closed her eyes reveling in the new sensations. Her long black hair draped seductively over her shoulders and swaying breasts. She was magnificent.

Hearing her breath come faster and faster and her moans reach that certain pitch wore down my control. And then it snapped. I held her tightly to me, flipping her under me and began stroking faster and faster, letting her cries and whimpers guide me. She was so tight and silky smooth and the friction was pushing me to my limits. It felt so good I never wanted to stop. The sounds she was making weren't ones of pain but of immense pleasure. I slipped my right hand between us and found her swollen nub and stroked it.

In a matter of seconds, I felt her tighten around my cock and she let out another scream, this time calling my name, "Marco!" Hearing it felt wrong, but I was rapidly losing it and knew I was about to come.

I looked deep into her eyes and shock rocked through me. _**Her eyes weren't blue!**_

_Why would I expect blue eyes?_ Was this a memory… a memory of someone else?

The feeling was so strong and unnerving I almost choked. But she was still thrusting her hips up, creating that sweet friction, and her contracting walls tightened milking me until I was empty.

I collapsed to her side and pulled out of her. Wrapping her in my arms, I felt her heart beating against mine. We lay together breathing hard, happily exhausted. I thought she had drifted off to sleep, but she raised herself up on one arm and kissed me.

"Marco, thank you… thank you for this unbelievable experience. I never imagined it could be this good. You are a wonderful teacher. I knew you would be. I hope all my partners are as skilled and kind as you have been with me."

She blew me away. Thanking me? Thanking me for making love to her? Nevi would forever hold a place in my heart.

The next morning, we awoke wrapped in each other's arms. We had made love over and over, in many positions and with differing levels of intensity. She'd been fascinated by my circumcised cock and that spurred a whole new round of experimentation. Just when I thought she was insatiable, she dropped off to sleep. I wondered which of us learned more that night.

All in all, while I couldn't remember my past, I knew with certainty that I'd never been more at peace than I was living with the Ye'kuana. They were a happy people and I was happy here, too. At this moment in time, I couldn't imagine another life for me.

AN: I'd like to thank sonomom for the inspiration for the latter piece of this chapter. _PS: Nevi thanks you, too, though Stephanie may want a word or two with you._


	17. Chapter 17 Sudden Death

**Chapter 17—Sudden Death**

_When the world says, "Give up," Hope whispers, "Try it one more time."_

Stephanie's POV

After sitting in my car for more than an hour, eyes glued to the black Cadillac down the street, something was finally happening. Another car, a blue Acura, was pulling up behind the Caddie I'd staked out. Yup, it was him. The same man I'd seen in Trenton was here in Newark.

Picking up the camera I'd borrowed from RangeMan's equipment room, I trained it on the man getting out of the Acura. I'd practiced using the zoom lens, but still felt uncomfortable with the unwieldy equipment. I snapped several pictures getting good shots of the man's face before he got into the passenger side of the Cadillac.

I'd been watching drug dealers peddle their little white packets of powder and pills all over Trenton for weeks now. The dealers all had one thing in common—this man in the Acura. Well, in Trenton he drove a Taurus, which led me to believe his cars were rentals. I'd have to check into that.

On a hunch, I'd asked my cop friend, Eddie Gazarra, to help me track down some drug dealers in Newark and I'd been driving to Newark all week trying to get proof that they used the same middleman as the dealers in Trenton.

If my gut was right, it would break this case wide open. Well, maybe not wide open, but it would drive a big wedge in it. I just had to get proof that this guy was selling drugs to a few more dealers in Newark. Maybe then, Tank would listen to my theory. I wanted him to be glad he put me on this special assignment.

Now, in Lula's words, my job was to stick to this scumbag like a blood-sucking tick on a hound dog's butt. I figured he was just the middleman in the drug dealing business, but he got me one step closer to the top dog.

0o0o0o0o0o

A new week was starting and I settled into my Monday morning routine. I downed the last bite of my Boston Cream from Tasty Pastry and picked up the phone. I knew the long-distance number by heart.

"Good morning, Paul, it's Stephanie Plum. Any news?" I asked.

Ever since I'd coaxed the name of Ranger's handler out of Tank's DC source three months ago I'd been calling Paul Govino every Monday morning asking for news about Ranger. Each time I got the same response. This morning was no exception.

"Sorry, Ms. Plum, but I haven't heard anything new about Carlos Mañoso since we talked last week, not his location or his status. Like I told you many times before, he was listed as Missing In Action four months ago. The unofficial word is that he is presumed dead."

I heard the words each week and each week they cut into my heart like a knife.

"From what I've heard, you still haven't officially informed his family that he's MIA yet," I said, my voice rising along with my anger.

"Ms. Plum, you know the sensitivity of the work Mañoso was doing. It's in the best interest of his memory and in the best interest of the American people that you drop this line of inquiry. I can't make that any clearer," he said in a harsh voice. I made a face into the phone and flapped my fingers and thumb together to indicate, 'blah, blah, blah.'

"That's not going to happen. Not until he comes home. And Paul, _it is_ _in his and everyone's best interest that Ranger is found and brought home as soon as possible._" I hung up, my anger getting the better of me.

Last month, I'd gone to DC and showed up at Paul Govino's office. Boy, was he surprised. No one was supposed to know who Govino was or what he did for a living, but Tank had great contacts who came through for him, and Tank came through for me. I thought, maybe, if Paul Govino could put a face with my voice when I called each week, he might try harder.

I think Tank regretted getting me the information. I was like a dog with a bone. I couldn't let it go. I knew Ranger was still alive; I just had to convince someone to keep looking for him. Tank had made it clear that going back down to South America was a useless effort and he refused to listen to any of my ideas.

My next step was to go to Govino's boss, if I could find out who he was. Paul reportedly worked for Homeland Security, but I knew that was just a front, a deflection for his true agency. I wouldn't stop until I'd demanded answers from everyone involved with Ranger's mission. If the 'powers that be' thought they could ignore me or keep Ranger's true fate from me, they were sadly mistaken.

Ranger had been gone for seven months and 'missing' for four. My mind was having a field day imagining him in a South American dungeon chained and tortured for government secrets. Or maybe, he was badly injured and barely surviving in a small cave, drinking rainwater and eating twigs and bugs.

What kept me motivated was the thought that he was Batman, the dark knight, and could withstand nearly anything. But (deep breath) _how long_ could he survive such severe conditions? Was he simply hanging on by a thread, waiting to be rescued?

I knew he'd never give up on me; I would never give up on him.

0o0o0o0o0o

"Tank, look at the pictures again. It's the same guy. It's Mario Rodriguez. He's selling in Trenton and in Newark and I have proof he purchased a plane ticket in Newark to DC with long stopovers in Philadelphia and Baltimore." My evidence photos were strewn across Tank's desk and my written report was still open in front of him.

Tank flicked his hand over the pics. "These are good, Steph. They show a direct link between Rodriguez and known drug dealers. You're the first investigator on Operation Sudden Death to secure solid evidence against him. This is the type of proof we're being paid to obtain. But the plane tickets aren't proof of anything except that he likes to travel."

I pressed on, "But those are the same cities with the sudden drug addict die-offs. I'm telling you, this guy is responsible and it isn't just a bad batch of heroin. Something else is going on here."

Tank blew out a breath of air. I'd noticed he'd been sighing a lot lately. I think I was a source of frustration to him. I hoped he didn't regret putting me on this assignment.

"Steph, our job is to track down the chain of people and businesses involved in dealing drugs in _Trenton_. That's what our contract with DEA states. You're taking it way off track. I'll remind you, again, to limit your efforts to Trenton and drug dealers." He fixed me with a stern stare. I stared back.

This wasn't the first time we'd had this talk. It wasn't that I misunderstood the assignment, but once I got into it, other things seemed to pop up and I just had to follow my gut. Tank kept bringing up the 'bottom line,' that we weren't getting paid to follow hunches. But people were dying as a result of bad drugs. I knew they were drug addicts, but they deserved a chance to live and hopefully, kick their habit.

In all honesty, I told Tank, "Okay, I'll focus on getting the proof that DEA needs to secure a conviction for all those involved in selling drugs. I want to do my part in solving this case and I want to make everyone at RangeMan proud to have me on their team." What I left unsaid was that I would continue to follow up on my hunches, too.

_**One month later…**_

My phone chirped. I was driving, so I hit speaker. "Yo."

"What's your ETA?" Tank's voice came booming over the speakerphone.

"I just pulled out of the police station. I have the body receipt for Mickey Spillane," I answered. No, not him, just a two-bit thief with a famous name.

"Good going, Steph. I knew you'd get him. Come up to the fifth floor conference room when you get here. I'm in the middle of a meeting, but just come on in." He disconnected. I was getting used to abrupt starts and stops of conversations and phone calls. Most of the guys at RangeMan had zilch conversational manners.

What was the meeting about? He'd hung up before I could ask him. It was always nice to know what you were walking in to.

I made a trip to the powder room and spruced up before heading into the conference room. I rarely got 'messed up' anymore when chasing skips, but when facing the unknown a few extra coats of mascara couldn't hurt.

I opened the conference room door and entered. All heads swiveled toward me. The room was filled with men staring at me, all wearing serious expressions except for one guy. I'd never seen him before, but he was smiling at me as if he knew me. I felt like I was on display. Half the room was filled with RangeMan employees and the other half was filled with 'suits' – Feds. Then I remembered Tank saying something about meeting with his DEA contact today.

Slipping into the nearest empty seat, I sought out Tank. He was looking straight at me and he did not look happy, not that Tank could ever be accused of being jovial or cheery.

Tank cleared his throat and, as if in a synchronized dance, all the men swiveled their chairs toward Tank, their heads and gaze following suit. My stress level dropped considerably with the attention off me.

"As I was saying, with the arrest of Mario Rodriguez and eight of his drug dealers in Trenton and four more in Newark, Operation Sudden Death is over. RangeMan has acquitted itself well and your next paychecks will reflect your hard work and efforts." Tank looked around the room and nodded to those of us who had worked our tails off for this case.

The arrests had been made by law enforcement personnel from the Drug Enforcement Agency two days ago. We all felt they'd moved prematurely, but we weren't bound by their political realities. Tank had informed us that DEA felt they needed to show immediate progress since a Congressional appropriations committee was currently scrutinizing their budget and asking hard, discouraging questions.

"At this point, I'll turn the meeting over to Special Agent Pete Paxton. He's been my direct DEA contact on this operation. Pax…" As Tank sat down, he gestured to the man who'd smiled at me earlier.

Pete Paxton was a tall, blond-haired, square-jawed man who looked maybe thirty-five. He had a lean swimmer's physique, which looked great in his tailored charcoal grey suit. He obviously paid attention to fashion and his personal appearance because his grey silk tie matched not only his suit, but also his eyes. He had a very different demeanor than most of the other men in the room. He smiled a lot and had an easy laugh that was also reflected in his beautiful grey eyes.

_Whoa, Steph. Back up_. It was okay to notice attractive men, but keep it in check, please.

Pete motioned to the man on his right, who began passing out folders to the assembled group. As he talked, I couldn't help noticing his mouth. He had full sensual lips and perfect teeth—straight and white. He was clean shaven, and his hair was short, spiky and sun-kissed blond on the tips with dark blond roots. He filled out his suit nicely, but not with the noticeable bulges most of the guys at RangeMan sported.

With an effort, I pulled my focus back to his words and to the contents of the file folder in front of me.

"…and we were just as disappointed as you were when we received the directive to make the busts. We lost our chance at getting the top man of the drug ring. The good news is we have been authorized to establish Operation Sudden Death II."

Pete dropped his eyes and a genuine smile spread across his face. You could tell how pleased he was. In fact, most of the men in the room were reacting similarly with smiles and high fives to each other.

Pete continued, "We'd like to extend the contract we have with RangeMan," he announced, letting his eyes travel around the room, "but with an amendment."

Suddenly, all eyes were back on me. It was as if everyone in the room knew something I didn't. I pretended not to notice and started to blindly flip through the pages of the report.

His voice resounded throughout the room, "After reading all your excellent reports and recommendations, one of your employees stood out from the rest. The startling conclusions offered by this person were intriguing, to say the least. That person is Stephanie Plum."

My head shot up, my eyes were as big as saucers and my mouth was hanging open. The silence in the room intensified the echo of my name ringing in my ears. And then, he dropped the bomb!

"We'd like to bring Ms. Plum onto our team for the duration of this Operation. It would mean moving to Washington DC for several months, but most of the time the team would be working in the field."

Like a tennis ball being volleyed, my eyes bounced back and forth between Pete Paxton and Tank. Pete was smiling at me, Tank was tight lipped, but there was a deep furrow between his eyebrows. I glanced at the RangeMan guys to my left. Some met my eyes, others looked anywhere but at me. None were smiling.

The feds on my right were studying me, assessing my value, I figured. Then reality took over and I thought, 'Sure, Steph, men always look at women for their brains and ability to contribute great ideas to the team.' They were probably wondering which of them would bed me first. _Well, keep wondering, boys._

Pete continued, "Ms. Plum, let me introduce our team." And he began the introductions. Each man nodded to me, rose and offered his hand. I stood and shook hands with each man, while my mind was screaming, "_What the f*** just happened?_"

Still standing, I turned to Tank and asked, "Could we step outside for a minute?"

Tank rose and followed me out the door. We went into his office and I shut the door, trying to calm myself down.

"Steph…" Tank began.

I jumped in, "No, you don't get to go first. I'm the one being railroaded. You should have warned me. You let me walk in cold and get ambushed by feds. We're supposed to have each other's back here at RangeMan." My voice was literally quivering with the unexpectedness of the situation and my anger at being broadsided.

"Well?" I said, glaring at Tank. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Is it safe for me to talk now?" he asked. I kept glaring and squinched my brows.

Tank leaned against the front of his desk. "Pax was late arriving this morning and he informed me of the contract amendment just before we started the meeting. Because of this news, I brought in our team—and that's when I called you—to join the discussion. I wasn't expecting this, at least not today."

I stood in front of him, deep breathing, trying to think through the situation logically, but my emotions were overwhelming my logic.

"Do I have to do this?" I asked.

"Of course not."

"But you think I should?"

He hesitated for a minute. "You've put a lot of effort and thought into this operation. The DEA is continuing it because of _your_ ideas. They value your work and conclusions. It would only be for a few months. But it's your call."

"Would RangeMan still be involved?" I didn't feel ready to fly solo.

"Yes, as long as you agree to join their team for this second phase of Sudden Death."

_Jeez,_ talk about pressure. "So, if I don't agree, RangeMan loses the contract?"

"Don't let that factor into your decision."

_Yeah, right._ I knew this was a lucrative contract and also a prestigious one. No matter how I felt about it, I had to say yes. A bonus in all this was that I would be living in DC so I could really up my efforts to find Ranger.

"I'll do it," I said.

Tank studied my face and my posture, trying to gauge my mood. Finally, he nodded.

Opening the door, we went out into the hall and reentered the conference room. Tank walked over to Pete Paxton and said, "We're a go." They shook hands, Pete looking over Tank's shoulder at me, a big smile on his face.


	18. Chapter 18 Tradeoffs

**Chapter 18—Tradeoffs**

_Each has his past shut in him like the leaves of a book shown to him by heart,_

_and his friends can only read the title. ~ Virginia Woolf _

AN: The first few paragraphs are a bit graphic, but are in keeping with the story line. If hunting scenes bother you, please skip down the page.

Ranger's/Marco's POV

Running as fast as I could, I tore through the dense underbrush, feeling the sting of the leaves, branches and vines as they slapped against my body. I could hear the men behind me, crashing through the jungle, knowing their deadly skills surpassed mine. But I was in the lead and my prey was in my sights. With my adrenaline sky high, I focused on the kill.

A primal scream tore from my throat as I leapt on the back of the fleeing black beast. We both crashed to the jungle floor. Without hesitating a beat, I grabbed its ugly head and in one violent movement, slashed its throat open. Strong spurts of hot blood washed over me, drenching my body in my prey's waning life force. As was proper, I threw back my head and yelled to the gods, giving praise to their kindness for allowing me to be successful.

Within seconds, my hunting party was upon me, slapping my back, giving me toothy grins and covering themselves in the dying tapir's blood. Juan started the blessing and we all quieted, heads bowed. I listened as he spoke in his native language, thanking the tapir for giving his life so that we may survive.

Then Juan pulled his own knife from his waistband and plunged it into the exposed belly of the now dead animal. The other members of the party were licking their lips as Juan pulled out the enormous liver and proceeded to slice off a chunk, handing it to me.

"The first offering goes to the hunter who made the kill. Marco, you make this old man proud, as proud as if you were my own son. This was a fine kill and will give our people much needed meat and a welcome relief from a diet of cassave bread and grubs." With that, the rest of the men yelled out their thanks and we all shared slivers of the raw liver.

I watched with interest as the men continued to strip down the large mammal, trying to memorize the cuts and skinning techniques they used. The tapir's hide was thick and layered with a mass of yellow fat. The hide would be made into tools and garments. The fat would be rendered, stored and used sparingly by the entire tribe in dozens of applications.

The men divided up the rest of the animal and wrapped the meat in large leaves using vines to secure the pieces to their backs. As victor, I was allowed to carry the head back to the women.

As soon as I entered the village, I knew something was different. There was an undercurrent of anxiousness or high emotion. And then the women and children descended on us, laughing and praising us for our successful hunt. They pretended shock over our bloody bodies, touching us, searching for wounds that weren't there. I sought out Nevi, wanting to give her the trophy, the tapir's head, which was considered a delicacy.

Nevi, in her simple loose dress, was standing at the back of the surging crowd, smiling at me. And that's when I saw her. A current of shock ran through me. Standing next to Nevi was a stranger. She was an exceptionally beautiful woman, maybe thirty years of age. She could pass for a Ye'kuana except for one thing. Her eyes were a brilliant blue set in a darkly tanned face. Her lustrous long black hair rivaled any of the women's in the village.

Then I noticed she was clothed very differently from the others.

She was wearing a white form-fitting shirt tucked into a pair of khaki cargo pants and she had on leather work boots. After so many months of seeing the same few faces day after day, it was startling to see a new person in the village and especially to see one so different.

I stood there transfixed, looking at two of the most beautiful women, when Juan pushed past me and swept the stranger up in his arms. She was laughing and seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was smearing her clothes, face and arms with blood.

The rest of the villagers moved off to the cooking pit to begin the long process of roasting our kill. Much of it would be dried and jerked, but tonight we would feast.

I moved to join the others, but Joran stopped me, exclaiming over the bloody head I held in my hands. I motioned for him to give it to Nevi, but he dragged me over to his family. Juan released the woman and stepped aside to include me.

Juan slapped me on the back. "Marco, I am beside myself with joy today. First, we have a successful hunt bringing fresh game home and doing so without any injuries. And then we come home in triumph and I find my dearest niece has returned home once again."

Juan pulled the young woman to him. "Marco, this is my niece, Illiana, my brother's only child. Illiana, this is Marco, our new brother." He beamed at the two of us, waiting to see our responses.

I looked at the others standing next to us. Nevi, Yada and Joran were smiling broadly. I started to extend my hand, but that was not a Ye'kuana custom. I gave a brief bow instead. We exchanged the ritual greetings and then there was an awkward silence.

Illiana wore an amused expression while she looked me up and down and I realized how I must look. I was wearing only a loincloth and I was covered head to toe in tapir blood. My hair was wild and greasy, falling well past my shoulders. And in my hands, I carried the bloody head of a tapir. For some reason, I suddenly felt odd and out of place.

Illiana finally spoke, "Nevi and Joran have told me how you came to the village. It is quite a story. I would like to hear more…"

Yada spoke up, an unusual act for her. "The tapir head! It must be prepared for the feast. Cook now, talk later." She grabbed Nevi's arm and the tapir head out of my hands and with the gait of a much younger woman, dashed off to the cooking pit with her granddaughter in tow. Joran looked at his retreating grandmother and back at us, indecision in his face. Juan nodded toward the pit and Joran raced off to help his grandmother scrape brains from the skull. I'd been told the brains would be prepared with many herbs and seasonings and served over a bed of greens.

Juan turned to Illiana. "Marco and I must bathe soon or we will attract more than just flies. Will you join us? I have made a mess of your fine garments."

Illiana gave me an assessing look and shook her head. "I promised to join Nevi for the evening bath. You two go ahead and we can talk over the evening meal."

She joined the others at the cooking pit and Juan and I headed down to the river.

"What wonderful fortune to have my beautiful niece return to us on feast day. And you, Marco, do you not think Illiana is a beautiful woman?" Juan asked as we stripped off our loincloths and entered the water.

"All the women in your family are beautiful. You are a lucky man indeed." I swam a distance away, uncomfortable with the direction of his conversation, but Juan was not to be deterred.

"I understand my niece is a very successful woman in the outside world, but she walks through it alone, no man at her side, no child at her bosom. I worry about her. She needs someone who understands the two worlds she lives in and who can keep her safe and well cared for. She is about your age, no?"

"I do not know," I said truthfully.

"_Hmmmmm_," was Juan's only reply.

The next day, all usual activities were suspended as people who had celebrated a bit too much during last night's feast slept in. Enjoying too much of the tribe's fermented ale left one with a painful hangover. I was no exception. My head felt like there were little men inside it beating against my skull. I would not make that mistake again.

But by midday, all the tribe had gathered and brought bundle after bundle of the special leaves, berries and roots they'd gathered and dried over the past months for Illiana. The same ritual had been happening for decades, ever since Illiana's grandmother discovered this village of the Ye'kuana. These were the healing plants that Illiana took back to her world to help the sick and dying and find cures for diseases unheard of by the Ye'kuana.

From the doorway of Juan's hut, I watched as Illiana distributed the wares she'd brought as payment for the tribe's efforts in collecting the plants she needed. Shiny new machetes, sets of kitchen knives and sharpening stones were the most coveted. The women vied for cast iron skillets, bolts of brightly colored cloth and sewing kits with an array of needles and spools of colored thread.

Yada waved me over to help carry the things she'd selected for her family. As I stood there, my arms extended, letting Yada load me up, I noticed several small plastic bottles among Illiana's stores. I knew the value of the little white pills in one of them and my pounding head screamed at me to humble myself and ask for a few. I returned when the crowd had thinned out.

"Illiana, if I may be so bold, I would like to trade for something," I began, in Ye'kuana.

She looked up, assessing me like she'd done the night before. She picked up the last machete and held it out to me. "Is this what interests you?" she asked.

I shook my head, which brought waves of pain and a flash of light across my eyes. Wincing, my eyelids slammed shut. Swallowing the foul taste rising in my mouth, I slowly opened my eyes and waited for the pain to subside. I held out my fist and then opened it, palm up. Nestled in my palm were three withered brown balls.

With a sharp intake of breath, Illiana immediately plucked them from my hand and studied them up close. Mumbling to herself, she uttered, "Grandfather will be so pleased I was able to bring back three." She looked back up at me, a wondering look on her face. "For these bits of fungi, you may choose whatever I've brought."

I pointed to the white plastic bottle. "I choose three of those."

She looked where I was pointing, frowned and then lifted three bottles out of the case and handed them to me.

"No, I just need three pills," I said.

Glancing down at the brown balls in her hand, she tried to explain, "But these are worth so much more. I do not feel right with such an unfair trade."

I stared back at her, not quite knowing what to say. She opened one of the bottles and shook out three pills. Handing them to me, she then picked up the machete and stood. Offering it handle first, she said, "Please, take this, too."

I cupped my hand to my mouth and swallowed the pills. With her intent gaze upon me, I accepted the knife from her. "Thank you. For me, this is more than a fair trade." I held the large blade in my hand, checking its weight and balance. Illiana dug into her stores and came up with a whetstone.

She held out the sharpening stone and speaking Spanish, she said, "A freebie. The fungal spores you brought are the only ones traded for on this trip. They are extremely rare and are priceless to me."

"What do you use the spores for?" I asked, moving to Spanish also.

She hesitated a minute before speaking, as if gathering her words carefully. "I work for my grandfather's company that specializes in discovering and making drugs—potions, that help people feel better and cure what ails them." I nodded.

"Well, from these little balls of fungi, we can make something that puts women more in control of their bodies."

I wasn't sure what she meant and I guess my face showed it.

She explained, "You understand what the word 'violar' means?"

_Dios_, '_rape_;' where was she going with this? I gave a slight nod.

Continuing, she said, "Well, sometimes a violación, a rape, can result in pregnancy. Using only a tiny bit of the spores, or powder, within these little balls, we can make a pill women can take right after an unexpected sexual encounter, like rape, and no child will be conceived."

A light dawned in my brain. This was what Yada must have given Nevi before we spent our night together.

Illiana carefully packed away the three balls. "They are called 'bolas de muerte' [_balls of death_] by the locals because if one ingests too much they die within minutes and there is no cure. Warriors have been known to plunge the tips of their arrows into the spores just before they wage war on another tribe. If the spores are injected into the bloodstream, death is nearly instantaneous."

I had the immediate desire to wash my hands a couple dozen times. I'd held those little death traps in my open palm. Illiana noticed me rubbing my hand. She smiled, "These particular spores have a very hard casing. They must be punctured or smashed to release the deadly particles. You're safe."

I couldn't help but think of Nevi and any other young girl who took this 'remedy.' How much was too much?

Illiana bent down and began packing up the remainder of her wares; her hand closed around the white bottle. Standing, she held it up. "How did you know what was in this? Most Ye'kuana never take any modern medicine."

I shook my head. This time it didn't hurt so much. "I don't know, but I knew it contained something that would take away the pounding pain in my head." I rubbed my forehead with my left hand.

"Too much celebrating last night?" she smiled, again studying me. "You look like a Ye'kuana. You remind me of my father, who was from this tribe. But you could also be from many other countries. Is it really true? That you cannot remember anything of your life before Joran brought you here?"

"I have no memories until I woke up in Juan's hut. I was badly injured with many wounds, several to my head. Yada tells me there are still pieces of metal inside me that were too deep for her to reach."

"But you speak Ye'kuana and Spanish? That's highly unusual, unless you are from this tribe."

"My Ye'kuana was very limited at first. I could understand Yada, but only the general concepts. It took me months to be able to speak with the rest of the tribe as an adult. Until then, I could speak only as a small child does. But my Spanish was… full, complete."

Illiana turned back to her cases, murmuring softly to herself. "Amazing, a man who destroys uranium mines with explosives, is familiar with the outside world, yet can live among my people and speak their native tongue. Who is he?"

I picked up on her utterances and wanted to know if she'd heard anything about the incident that had injured me. "Have you heard anything more about the mine explosion? Are the soldiers still looking for me?"

Illiana whirled around, her eyes big, her mouth open. "_What_ did you say?" she exclaimed.

Wondering what had startled her so much, I replied, "I do not want to bring any trouble to the village. If the soldiers are still looking for me, I need to know."

Staring at me as if I was an oddity, she said, "You're speaking _English_, now. I was talking to myself in English; it's my first language. You asked me your questions in English. But how do you know it? How many other languages do you speak?"

I hadn't realized I'd used another language. _How much more about my life before this one was there to learn? And what was the tradeoff to discover it?_


	19. Chapter 19 Secrets, Lies, Sex and Spies

**Chapter 19—Secrets, Lies, Sex and Spies**

"_Anyone can give up, it's the easiest thing in the world to do. _

_But to hold it together when everyone else would understand if you fell apart,_

_that's true strength."_

Stephanie's POV

The image that stared back at me from my bathroom mirror was not the one I was used to seeing. After spending Saturday morning at an upscale salon, I now had a stylish new haircut paired with a toned down makeup job. My normally unruly curls were tamed into a smooth wave and my hair appeared at least three inches longer. As I looked at myself in the mirror, I resisted the urge to slather on several more coats of mascara and opted for another swipe of lip gloss instead.

Laid out on my bed was my new tailored business suit – also very understated. The wool skirt and jacket were a warm beige and the blouse was a linen/cotton blend in a soft melon color. The pointy-toed pumps had a modest three-inch heel with a subtle animal print texture. The clerk had assured me they were the height of fashion; at least they were Manolo Blahniks. After dressing, I grabbed my handbag and was ready to begin my second month of work as an investigator for the Drug Enforcement Agency. My first month hadn't gone all that well.

Moving to Washington DC had been stressful for me. I'd always lived in Jersey, and DC was a whole other universe. Everyone dressed to the nines and the pace was twice as fast. I kept telling myself the move was only for a few months and Trenton was less than a half-day's drive away.

Burying myself in Operation Sudden Death II kept me occupied day and night. Plus, the DEA required me to take several department-specific courses and pass a physical exam before I could go out in the field with my 'team.' _My team!_ I was used to working with men; that's all there were at RangeMan, Inc. But the DEA team was different.

It could just be me, but I felt I was looked down upon by the guys. I didn't have their law enforcement or government experience, I didn't know the lingo, and my reputation as the 'bombshell bounty hunter' had arrived in DC before me. The guys didn't hate me, actually they all tried to date me, but they didn't take me seriously as a professional. And so, my new 'professional' look. I don't know why, but I was expecting more from them. I missed RangeMan.

I talked to Tank everyday over the phone, keeping him updated on any new findings regarding the case, but it wasn't the same as working for him. Officially, I was still a RangeMan employee under contract to the DEA, but I now reported to Pete Paxton or 'Pax' as everyone called him.

Pax was an enigma to me. He was totally professional, even a hard-ass when we were on the case, but when we were on lunch break I saw an entirely different side of him. Then he was focused solely on me, asking me about my life, my family, my interests. It was like we were on a freakin' date. He even tried to pay for my lunch. During these times, I found him to be funny, light-hearted and quite charming. Several times, I overheard him talking on the phone with his mother. Surprisingly, he actually liked his mom.

The case we were working on had taken a strange turn. As Pax explained my role on the team, I was supposed to be looking for patterns and anomalies – things that didn't fit or fit too well. I guess he saw something of value in my earlier report and conclusions on the first Sudden Death case. I'd had a hunch the deaths were cyclical and went way beyond Trenton. It was as if someone was intentionally killing drug addicts, but in a way that made it look like they simply got a bad batch of heroin.

The purpose of this second Sudden Death operation was to determine how widespread the deaths were and track the drugs back to their source. The general consensus among the team was that someone was selling bad heroin up and down the eastern seaboard. I needed to find a pattern to the deaths, if at all possible. I decided to concentrate my initial efforts in Trenton since I was familiar with that city.

The information I needed was scattered all over town, in hospital records, morgues, police departments and city agencies. The frustrating thing was that most of the data I needed was stored in file cabinets, not computerized databases. Real life wasn't anything like the TV detective shows where some computer whiz punches a few keys and the data you need comes up on a pretty screen all nice and neat.

Working a hunch, I decided to spend a week in Trenton locating information about the city's drug-related deaths from last year and recording it on a spreadsheet. I couldn't detect anything from so little data so I dug deeper and added a couple more years of records. There was definitely a pattern emerging, but the spreadsheet was limited in the type of information I could enter or interpret.

All the work I'd done running computer searches for RangeMan came in handy. I knew if I could find the right computer program, it would make it easier to search the data for the key points I was looking for.

When I mentioned my problem to Pax, he put me in touch with the DEA's IT guy assigned to the Task Force. But the guy was swamped with requests – we were just one of many operations under the purview of the Organized Crime Drug Enforcement Task Force. So, I asked around and learned he had a weakness, one I was familiar with.

The next morning, I walked into the IT office bearing donuts and coffee. That sweet bribe put me at the head of the line. While munching on a Boston Cream, Brad, the bespectacled IT guy, looked over my spreadsheet and listened as I explained why I needed something more comprehensive and searchable by key words. Working his way through a jelly donut, he suggested using a relational database software program. That got a blank stare from me, and an exasperated look from him when he realized he wasn't dealing with one of his own kind. After he asked me dozens of questions while consuming the rest of the donuts, I was finally able to give him the parameters of what I was looking for. With a big, sticky grin, he told me he'd work on it and to come back later with lunch.

Several hours later, I came back with two Philly cheese steaks, two cokes and a dozen assorted pastries. While we ate, Brad finished constructing my program and even uploaded my spreadsheet into it. Making me sit at his computer while he leaned over me, Brad showed me how to use the database and print out special reports, dripping rainbow sprinkles all over me. He also sniffed my hair several times.

Then, he asked me out. I hadn't been this popular since… _never_. I told Brad I didn't date co-workers. Brad wasn't a bad looking guy, in a nerdy sort of way, but the only thing we had in common was a love of donuts. But it'd be weird dating someone who could put away more Boston Creams than I could.

As I left Brad's office, all I could hear was Ranger's voice in my head, saying, "Those things'll kill you, Babe." I couldn't help smiling. I knew Ranger'd been referring to donuts, but in this context I was thinking it meant dating a Fed. The only dates I had nowadays were the ones with my shower massager and it would stay that way until Ranger came back home.

Over the next few weeks, I added hundreds of entries to the database Brad prepared for me, going back through the city's files year after year researching all deaths attributed to drugs, including overdoses, suicides, even murders. I finally had a database of all the drug-related deaths in Trenton for the past ten years. What I found shocked me.

Each year there were several clusters of deaths of known drug addicts as well as people who only took drugs occasionally. These clusters occurred in a predictable cycle, year after year, starting nine years ago. The tenth year back showed no clusters, just a few random deaths throughout the year.

Pax was impressed with my preliminary results. He gave me two assistants to continue building the database. We concentrated on three of the thirty-one high intensity drug trafficking areas that were established years ago: New York/New Jersey, Philadelphia/Camden, and Washington DC/Baltimore.

While my assistants and I were doing our thing, the other guys on the team were tracking down the source of the drugs beginning with the street dealers. Most of the work we were doing was time consuming and anything but glamorous. But once my spidey sense was triggered, I was tenacious and couldn't let it go, whether it was about my job or Ranger.

Since I was now living in DC, I made a point of making regular personal visits to Paul Govino and reminding him I was still on his case to find Ranger. Ranger'd been MIA for seven months now; gone for ten since his 'business' trip began. Seven long months and not a word, not a sighting, nothing.

I'd finally discovered who Govino's immediate boss was, a fed with a first name that didn't evoke fond memories for me – Dick O'Connell. Try as I might, I couldn't get an appointment to see him so I waited for him in the lobby of his office building. Confronting him in front of a group of suits got results and as soon as he heard the name Carlos Mañoso, he whisked me up to his office.

The place was light and airy, all glass, with great views of the DC skyline. It was actually a cheery looking office from which I imagined death was ordered on a regular basis. 'Dick' motioned me to a chair in front of his desk and we both sat down.

This man was much worse than Govino, unwilling to even admit he knew anything about Ranger. His opening line to me was, "Ms. Plum, as Mr. Govino has advised you, this office has no knowledge of Mr. Mañoso's activities or whereabouts. If you continue to harass this office, legal action will be taken against you."

I ignored his warning and tried to talk to him about notifying Ranger's family about his status, but he kept to his lies and insisted his office had nothing to do with Ranger or with secret government missions. His next words cut me to the quick, in more ways than one.

"From the little I know of his record as an Army Ranger, Carlos Mañoso was a fine officer and soldier with many commendations for his acts of bravery and heroism. But things… change. If you continue dredging this matter up I guarantee you, you will only bring disgrace to his reputation."

Was that true? I wouldn't do anything to hurt Ranger or his reputation—not intentionally, at least. I knew he was very proud of his time as an Army Ranger.

"Ms. Plum, face reality. After seven months without anyone hearing from him, you must accept the fact he is dead. You must stop looking for him or demanding the government keep searching for him. If your persistent inquiries reach the wrong ears…" O'Connell abruptly closed his mouth and then continued, "Put this behind you and move on with your life."

My blood ran cold at his words. I'd never let myself consider that fact. I would know it if Ranger was dead. _I would!_ He was alive, of that I was positive. There had to be _some explanation_ why he hadn't contacted me… or Tank… or his family? But the vague comment about wrong ears?_ What was that about?_

This odious bureaucrat 'Dick' kept blathering on. "I hear you're now working for the DEA on a high profile operation. The sky's the limit if you can solve a major case like the one you're working on. But if someone _pulled the funding_ for this operation, a lot of people would be out of work. You wouldn't want to jeopardize your new career, would you?"

Now that felt like a personal threat. I didn't react well to threats. Some of Trenton's finest psychos have threatened me; a two-bit public servant didn't scare me.

I straightened my back and lifted my chin. "You can threaten me all you want, Mr. O'Connell. But I won't back off and I'll never quit looking for Ranger."

I reached for my purse and stood up. "I don't know how you sleep at night, sending men on dangerous missions and then washing your hands of them when things don't turn out the way you want them to. You have a man somewhere out there, a good, loyal and brave soldier who was just following orders, and you're turning your back on him. This isn't what it means to be an American. I, for one, will never give up. I don't know how you can, _dick_." I turned and left his office, slamming the door behind me so hard the glass cracked.

I was so upset I called Tank on the way to my office and relayed the conversation back to him. I did not get the response I expected.

"The man's right, Stephanie. You need to stop bothering Ranger's handler and you definitely need to _never go back_ to O'Connell's office. That will only put you on the 'to be monitored' list. You don't need Homeland Security or worse watching your every move."

I couldn't believe I was hearing this from Ranger's best friend and I told him so. He was silent for a bit before he continued.

"Ranger and I talked about what to do if he didn't come back from a mission. I wish I didn't have to tell you this, Steph, but we both agreed that if I hadn't heard from him in six months, I should assume he didn't make it."

I gasped and started shaking my head. My hand was gripping the phone so hard I almost broke it. "I won't accept that. _I can't_," I cried. "What other secrets have you been keeping from me?"

I heard him sigh. "This wasn't a secret, just part of Ranger's instructions. And per his instructions, I've already contacted his family."

"_Omigod_. What did they say? What was their reaction?" I wanted to meet them, talk to them, tell them about Ranger and me. I was nearly in tears.

"They were upset, naturally, but they knew their son had a dangerous job." Another big sigh. "They made funeral arrangements. The services are this Friday in Newark."

I held the phone in front of me and just stared at it, unable to believe what I was hearing. I yelled into the phone, "You convinced his parents to proclaim him dead and then _bury an empty coffin_?"

"Steph, it's time. They'd been calling me nearly every week. His mother was making herself sick with worry and his father was afraid for her health. Ranger made it clear he didn't want his family to suffer as a result of his life choices."

Tears filled my eyes, knowing how much pain they must be feeling. I'd never even met the Mañosos. Tank had advised me to keep my distance until we knew more and then, with the move to DC, I let it slide. And now this…

"I don't mean to be brutal, Steph, but Ranger and I agreed on this. Six months is long enough for him to get out of even the most terrible of circumstances, at least long enough to get word to me. If he'd been captured, they wouldn't keep him alive this long. If he'd been injured, he had time to recover and make it to a phone. You have to accept the facts. If he was coming home, he'd be here."

His response was so unexpected, so jarring, and so hard to take, I hung up on him. I couldn't believe Tank let me down—let Ranger down.


	20. Chapter 20 Marc Pardo

**Chapter 20—Marc Pardo**

_Be willing to trust your instincts, especially if you cannot find answers elsewhere._

_ Brian Koslow_

Ranger's/Marco's POV

For months, I'd been at peace living with the Ye'kuana. I'd enjoyed learning the skills all Ye'kuana warriors took for granted and the hunts we shared were a rewarding group effort. The evenings spent with Juan and his family were quiet respites filled with the telling of tales, amidst laughter and gentle teasing.

I'd barely given my past a second thought. After all, what was there to think about? My mind was a virtual blank. And living this simple, day to day existence with the same few people who were content with themselves and their lives in the rainforest wasn't conducive to a lot of introspection. Plus, I had no reference to base anything else on.

But now, each morning I woke up feeling uneasy and – empty. Not from an empty stomach, but from an empty mind. Where there should have been a lifetime of memories, I had only a few months of experiences. Granted, the experiences were new and refreshing, but I knew I had a whole other life—somewhere.

The trigger to all this unease was Illiana. Spending time with her and she speaking so freely of the 'outside' world, thoughts starting coming unbidden to my mind.

I couldn't stop the questions that began bouncing around in my head. What were the circumstances that brought me to that mine in the jungle? What kind of life had I lived that led me to attempt such an act of destruction? What kind of person had I been? Where did I live? Did I have a family? A wife? Children?

Somehow, I knew with certainty, I did not belong with the Ye'kuana. That thought brought me a little sadness as I also knew I'd been happy here. But once aroused, my mind just wouldn't rest. I had to find answers.

However, in the back of my mind, there was a niggling thought – what if I didn't like what I found?

I was covered in old scars, many of them looked like they were from serious, deep wounds. If I was a soldier, that would explain a lot. But if Venezuelan soldiers were hunting me, I was probably not from this country. But until Illiana came, I had no knowledge or memory of any other place.

Illiana and I talked for hours each day that she was in the village. We speculated about my past life and she told me about her early life here in the village and in the outside world.

"My full name is Illiana Maria Butterwick Parduhn," she told me. "I love having that connection to my grandmother."

"From what you and Yada have told me about her, she sounded quite adventurous and altruistic."

Illiana laughed, "She certainly wasn't afraid of taking risks, but I don't know about altruistic. Abuela Maria lived her life following her passion, which was discovering new plants and especially plants with medicinal value. I know she also truly cared about the native people who let her into their hidden world, but the main reason she came was for purely selfish reasons."

"If her passion was in the _discovery_ of medicinal plants, how did she turn them into useful drugs in the outside world?" I asked.

"In her search for a company to market the drugs, my grandmother met my grandfather, Andrew Barnes. They fell in love and together, they created an innovative research and development company for the rainforest plants my grandmother brought back. Grandfather accepted his wife's eccentricities, knowing she'd be spending months at a time traveling and searching the jungle for the plants that would become their moneymakers. The company is now one of the most successful of its kind, if I do say so myself."

Illiana blew on the backs of her fingers and 'polished' them on her upper chest. I didn't have any memory of seeing that gesture before, but I knew exactly what it meant. It just whet my appetite to learn more about what I'd 'forgotten.'

"Parduhn? Your last name sounds familiar, but I can't place it," I said.

"Parduhn is also Juan's last name. He _is_ my father's brother, after all," she replied.

After months of living with the tribe I realized no last names were ever mentioned. Illiana explained, "Surnames didn't appear in Ye'kuana life until they made contact with the outside world over fifty years ago. Most tribesmen rarely use them." But even with that explanation, her last name still struck a chord within me.

Illiana joined in all the regular tribal activities and in a very short time, I became extremely close to her. I could relate to her in a way I couldn't with anyone else in the village, including Juan and Nevi. She seemed to enjoy my company also.

One evening, as we discussed my 'condition' she told me, "I think you're suffering from something called _amnesia_."

As soon as she said the word I knew exactly what it was. Many things were like that. Until I saw it or heard of it, I had no memory, but as soon as I was aware of something, I usually could remember lots of information about it. _What would happen if I returned to the outside world? How much would I remember with more 'stimulation' and reminders of what I once knew?_

Soon, Illiana would be traveling back to her life outside of the rainforest. And when she returned she would take Nevi with her.

It was time. I asked her to take me, too.

This brought on mixed reactions from the tribe. Juan seemed to accept that this would eventually happen. Nevi was pleased I'd be journeying with her, but Joran was angry. I'd become his big brother, and his claim to fame. He'd rescued me after all.

Illiana warned me though, that leaving the protection of the rainforest would put a target on me. If I were known to the Venezuelan government as a rebel, they would be looking for me. _Was that my life? Was I a rebel?_

She cautioned, "You have no papers – no birth certificate, no passport, no proof you are a legitimate citizen of someplace. Without the proper papers you will not be able to leave Venezuela legally and no other country will legally allow you to enter." Despite what she said, I was determined to leave the jungle.

"Where do you want to go?" she asked. How could I answer that when I didn't know what my options were? There was still so much that was a huge blank.

"I live in a country called the United States of America…"

"_That's it!"_ I cried, picking her up and swirling her around. As soon as she said it, I knew that was where I was from. It was like the first piece of the puzzle dropping into place. Setting her back down, I grabbed her upper arms and demanded, "How do I get there?"

With hesitation, Illiana told me, "Without a passport, you can't enter the U.S. legally. Some people risk trying to enter illegally, but it often goes very wrong, Marco. I wouldn't suggest it."

"Tell me more. How does it work?"

"Well, you pay a smuggler, known as a coyote, to find a way to sneak you across the border, usually crammed into a vehicle with many other people trying to get into the U.S., too. Some smugglers can also provide you with forged papers."

"How does one go about getting in touch with these _coyotes?_"

"I don't know. I've never had any reason to deal with them so I don't know any or how much they charge, but they are a dangerous group of people. They often take your money and then leave you in the middle of nowhere to fend for yourself. Many desperate people die every year trying to cross the desert. Those that don't die are often apprehended by the border patrol and deported. It's a tremendous risk, Marco."

To me, it was worth it. I didn't know how, but I knew my past… and my future was in America.

The need to find out who I was had become an obsession within a few short weeks. I was now driven to discover my past. It felt like I had no real future without knowing where I came from.

When the time came for Illiana to leave, the entire village turned out. Nevi was excited and laughed at Yada's and Joran's tears. Juan gave her one last hug and helped her into the boat. Illiana had arrived by motorized boat four weeks ago and had arranged for the same boat to pick her up.

I was the last to board. Juan didn't shake hands. He grabbed me up in a big bear hug, telling me I would forever be his Ye'kuana brother and to return someday and tell him who I discovered myself to be. Nevi had tried to repair the clothes I'd arrived in, but they were a lost cause, so I was wearing a shirt and pants that Juan's son had brought him from his time in the big city. On my feet was a pair of leather sandals Nevi made for me from the hide of the tapir I'd killed.

We journeyed upstream for most of the day, finally stopping at a large village situated at the confluence of two rivers. From there, Illiana, Nevi and I traveled by bus to Cuidad Bolivar. This was all an exciting adventure for Nevi, and I was glad to see it through her eyes. While I had no personal memories of being in cities and all they offered, they seemed familiar and somewhat boring to me. To Nevi, it was fresh and thrilling and her smiles and laughter over every new thing were contagious. I would miss her, but I knew her future lay in a direction different than mine.

When Illiana was in Venezuela, she had use of a company apartment, so I stayed there while she got Nevi settled. Nevi was to stay with a family Illiana had worked with in the past when she brought tribal members to the city to attend school. This family's mother was also from Nevi's tribe, but after her time at school she'd chosen to remain in the outside world. She would be able to help Nevi adjust to her time here.

Illiana then went to work using her contacts to find people who could provide me with a set of papers that would pass most security checkpoints. We'd decided to pass me off as a Ye'kuana, which would explain why I had no birth certificate, but neither of us was confident enough to go through proper channels to get legal documentation. Illiana said there was too much scrutiny right now regarding the country's indigenous people and neither of us knew if the government might be looking for me – well, my previous 'me'.

She asked me to choose a name for myself to use on the papers and I immediately replied, "Marc Pardo." It just came out.

Illiana smiled, "That's good. It sounds like a Ye'kuana name or even a Latin American name. And it is similar enough to my last name, Parduhn, to appear as if you might be a distant relative of mine. Good choice, Marco."

Over the next several weeks, Illiana and I made our way out of South America and up through Central America. We rented a car and kept to the back roads. She explained that security wasn't tight through most of the developing countries; they didn't seem to care if people were moving through them illegally, but that when we got to the U.S. border, things would be very different.

There were a few border crossings that made me nervous. Several times I left the car before the border and crossed over on foot nearly a half mile from the checkpoint, rejoining Illiana on the other side.

Throughout our anxiety-ridden trip, I realized Illiana was sacrificing not only her time and reputation to do this for me, but she was also spending quite a bit of money for gas, food and lodging. I had nothing to offer and was feeling guilty.

We were in Tegucigalpa, sitting at the table in our latest motel room when I asked her why she would go to so much trouble for a virtual stranger. She replied, "You're worth it."

In my current amnesiatic state, I didn't feel worthy of much. I pressed her and she grinned while she confided in me, "I find this exciting. Like we're spies on a secret mission. Plus, there's this mystery about you. I already like you just because you were trying to blow up that horrible uranium mine that is polluting my people's land, but I want to know more about you."

She reached out her hand and stroked my cheek, "Who are you? I know you are a good man…" She looked directly into my eyes. Her eyes were blue and something tugged at me when I let myself gaze into them, but it also didn't feel right. Something was off.

I stood up abruptly, severing our connection. I hated this feeling of not knowing, but still 'knowing' there was so much more to my life. I slammed my fist into the wall and regretted it as soon I felt the pain radiate up my arm. With that sixth sense that haunted me, I knew such an outburst was uncommon for me.

I purposely maintained an emotional distance from Illiana for the rest of the trip. While she was a beautiful woman and was obviously attracted to me, something held me back. I had no business getting involved with someone, when I had no idea who I was or what I'd be dragging her into. Illiana must have sensed my withdrawal; she became reserved and quiet.

We traveled together all the way to Santa Ana in Sonora, Mexico where I met my human smuggler. The man, whom I only knew as Nacho, was a short, overweight, shifty-looking character. I handed Nacho the two thousand dollars in American money that Illiana had withdrawn from her savings.

That single action brought on strong feelings of guilt within me. I had so much to repay Illiana for. Then I said goodbye to her. She would enter the U.S. at Nogales and continue on into the State of Arizona to the town of Casa Grande to wait for me. Nacho was to sneak me across the border in a four-wheel drive vehicle and travel backcountry on jeep trails up to Casa Grande. The false papers that had gotten me across the many borders in Central America would not suffice at the U.S./Mexico international border checkpoints.

Illiana and I had prepared a backup plan. I carried a disposable phone and had memorized Illiana's cell phone number. If things went haywire with Nacho, I was to call her and she would come and get me.

If things went haywire…


	21. Chapter 21 The Spy Who Came Out

**Chapter 21—The Spy Who Came Out In The Cold**

_Cry 'Havoc', and let slip the dogs of war, _

_that this foul deed shall smell above the earth with carrion men, _

_groaning for burial._

_ William Shakespeare_

Stephanie's POV

It was raining, not the downpour that was occurring in my heart, but a cold New Jersey drizzle. The kind that made you miserable – and turned my hair into a ball of frizz. The lane was packed with a long line of vehicles parked along the edge. I pulled in behind the last car and stopped. The rain made it difficult, but I could just barely make out a large crowd of people holding umbrellas and clustered together about 300 yards off the road. It was a beautiful cemetery, lots of green grass, tall trees and rolling hills, but I wasn't in the mood to properly appreciate it.

I couldn't bear to hear Ranger's eulogy, so I sat in my car and watched the crowd and the rain. Just thinking about the implications of this funeral service made me mad. After today, would Ranger be 'no more' in people's minds? I wanted to lash out at someone for this horrible mess, but I didn't know who to blame. Though one person in particular really got my goat; someone who'd let me down.

I knew I'd run into Tank and I was dreading it. I hadn't answered any of his calls since the day he told me I had to face facts and accept that Ranger was dead.

Tank kept leaving messages, something about Ranger and the government and then something about Ranger's will. I was still too mad at him to talk about anything calmly and rationally. Then, yesterday, I got a packet in the mail. Tank had sent me a large manila envelope with a note attached asking me to call him – he said it was urgent.

The packet contained a copy of Ranger's Last Will and Testament. He'd left me an annuity, enough money to make sure I didn't have to struggle to make ends meet. He had to have written it before I told him I loved him, which meant he'd always loved me enough to make sure I was taken care of, even though he didn't know we'd be together—together, that is, when he finally made his way back home to me. Another reason not to give up on him. I didn't want his money – _I wanted him!_

I was wearing a navy blue suit with a silver grey blouse. I refused to wear black. In my mind this wasn't a true funeral, but I didn't want to upset Ranger's family by being disrespectful. I didn't know what I was going to say to them, if anything. We'd never met, and Ranger and I hadn't had any time to go public with our relationship.

I could just be one of his 'dates' for all his family knew. I assumed Ranger had women in his life. Had he ever brought any of them home to meet his mother? I squelched my rising jealousy at that thought. My gut reaction was to tell them what was in my heart, but maybe that should wait for another day.

Waiting until all the military pomp and circumstance was over, I took my umbrella with me and trudged up the hill to the site. The priest was wrapping up and I could hear sobs coming from the front row. My heart broke for Ranger's family. Normally, I cried at all funerals, but today I had no tears of my own. This was not a funeral. This was a farce—a sham.

A huge mass broke away from the crowd as I approached. RangeMen! With Tank in the lead. Behind him were Bobby, Lester, Hal, Zero, Cal and all the rest. I'd never seen the guys decked out in all their finery. They were a handsome bunch, but I took no joy in seeing them. Tank tried to embrace me, but I held my umbrella in front of me, letting the cold drizzle soak my head.

Tank put both his hands up in surrender. "Stephanie, I know it's not the best time, but we need to talk. There's something I should have told you before, but…"

Even through the rain, my Burg death glare could clearly be seen. Keeping my voice low, I hissed, "I don't want to hear anything you have to say, Tank. I don't want your empty arms or your false condolences. Save your words of pity and consolation for those who believe the lies. I know the truth."

Tank tried again, but I threw up my hand and walked on by. I left them standing there, blank-faced and alone. But I was alone, too. And I desperately needed to hold on to the anger to keep the despair at bay.

The services were winding down and people were eager to get out of the cold. It was a dreary overcast day. The rain had turned into a fine mist.

It was hard to distinguish one person from another with the overcoats and umbrellas and black clothes. Along with the majority of people who were leaving the gravesite were a woman and a young girl. The girl was extremely distraught and crying uncontrollably. Something in the girl's manner made me approach them. It had been nearly three years since I'd seen Julie; she would be nearly thirteen years old by now. The woman looked up at me, her arm tightening protectively around the young girl's shoulders. I recognized her as Rachel Martine, Julie's mother. I nodded to her and asked if I could speak to her daughter. We both turned to the girl.

"Julie?" I queried, a hesitant catch in my voice. The young girl looked up, eyes not quite focused. "Julie, it's Stephanie, Stephanie Plum."

Julie took a second look at me and then let out a loud sob, throwing herself into my arms. I almost started crying too, feeling her trembling body shudder against mine as she cried her heart out. The three of us stood huddled together as people filed past us on their way down the hill to their cars.

Julie finally lifted her head up. She was only a few inches shorter than I was. She looked so grown up now, but I knew today, she was just a little girl in pain, grieving for a father she had just been getting to know.

Her voice was a thin wail, "Stephanie, he's gone. My father's gone. I barely knew him and now I never will."

She tucked her head under my chin and resumed sobbing. I held her tightly, feeling her pain as her body was racked by sobs. She'd almost lost her father three years ago, but managed to shoot his would-be killer. She was her father's daughter, but she was also just a child with a broken heart.

I debated how much to tell her. I had no proof that Ranger was still alive and I didn't think Rachel would appreciate me trying to convince her daughter that Ranger wasn't dead. She would probably think I was giving her daughter false hope and delaying her inevitable grief. I opted for a middle of the ground approach.

When her sobs slowed down, I rubbed her back and told her, "I'm so sorry, Julie. There's not much anyone can say at a time like this that will ease your pain." She stilled and was listening now. "As for myself, I can't believe he's gone, so I don't." Julie raised her head and I could see the confused look on her face.

"I know… it sounds crazy, doesn't it? But no one saw him die and they haven't found his body. And even more importantly for me, I don't feel it in my heart, or in my soul that he's gone. I choose to believe he's still alive, somewhere in the world trying to get back to us. I _need_ to believe that."

I stroked her hair back from her face as she listened to me deny Ranger's death. I had no idea what she thought of my confession, but I couldn't lie to her about how I felt. She would either think I was crazy or that I was living in Denial Land. Both were probably true, to some extent. But she surprised me.

"That makes me feel a little better, Stephanie, that someone who loves him still believes he's alive. Thank you," she sniffled. "Would you call or email me sometime? Maybe you could tell me more about him and I could ask questions about what he was really like?" she asked, voicing a grieving daughter's desire to hold on to the vague memories she had of her father.

"Yes, I'd like that and I'll keep in touch, Julie. It will help me, too, to talk with you about him. I'm glad we got a chance to see each other again. I just wish it were under better circumstances." I gave her my business card and wrote my personal email address and phone number on the back.

Rachel put her hand on her daughter's shoulder. "Julie, we have to go. Our flight leaves soon." Julie hugged me one last time and joined her mother in the long wet walk to the waiting cars. I turned back up the hill and approached the gravesite.

Still standing by the open grave were Ranger's parents and several young men and women who I assumed were his siblings and their spouses. I walked up opposite them on the other side of the grave just as they finished tossing in the symbolic shovelfuls of dirt. The younger people began to move away, holding on tightly to each other in their obvious grief.

Reaching into my coat pocket I pulled out a small black object and tossed it in on top of the empty coffin now slick with mud. The rain had finally stopped, but it had left its wet mark on everything.

The tiny die cast Porsche 911 Turbo landed upright and slid across the surface, coming to a stop at the narrow end of the coffin. Ranger was always giving me his black cars to keep me safe, now I was giving him one to bring him safely home to me. At that moment, the sun peeked out – just for a moment. I smiled.

The woman I assumed to be Ranger's mother stared into the grave at my unusual offering and then looked over at me. Our eyes met and I couldn't wipe the smile from my face. After speaking quietly to her husband, she walked around the grave until she came face to face with me. The rest of the family slowly moved away down the hill occasionally looking back at us.

She put her hand on my forearm. Her voice was low and hoarse, as if she'd been crying nonstop for days. "It's nice to finally meet you, Stephanie," she said.

I was dumbfounded and knew my shock at her knowing who I was showed in my face. "Carlos told me all about you and your many exciting exploits. He would be pleased to know you came. I am his mother, Sonia."

I looked down into her tired and grieving face. I could see Ranger's eyes, his full mouth and his beautiful black hair. I could also see her deep pain. I held out my hand, but she pulled me into a tight embrace and started crying.

Her sobs tore my heart into pieces, but I still couldn't join her. I couldn't cry for Ranger, not when he needed me to be strong. His mother sensed something and pulled a little away.

"I know my son loved you, though he would never admit it to me, his own mother. But you have no tears for him?" she questioned, a look of disbelief on her grieving face.

I had to say it. "Mrs. Mañoso… Sonia, please understand. I love your son with all my heart. And I know this has been extremely painful for you. Please know that what I'm about to say is only my belief and that I don't mean to be disrespectful, but…" I paused and took a deep breath, "I do not believe your son is dead."

A look of confusion crossed her face. I let my words sink in knowing the events of late had been overwhelming to her. I put my hand over hers.

"Ever since I heard that Ranger… Carlos… was missing in action, I've felt he was alive. I'm not crazy, really I'm not, but I would _know_ it if he had died. In his last words to me before he left this time, he _promised_ he would come back to me and that we would have our _someday_. I'm sure you know, he's a man of his word."

I grabbed both her hands and looked her in the eye. I started out strong, "He asked me if I believed in him and I said _yes_. He told me he loved me." My voice began to break a little and I had to take several deep breaths. "I will not disappoint him by believing the lies told by self-serving government officials. _He is alive_. Carlos is alive. I believe that and I will never give up on him."

Sonia stared at me, searching every inch of my face. She shook her head as if trying to wrap her mind around that seemingly inconceivable thought. She turned her head and looked into the open grave at the muddied coffin and the little black car waiting for its driver. We stood there, holding hands, for what seemed like an eternity.

And then before my very eyes, I saw her entire appearance change. She grew taller, the lines on her face dropped away and she looked ten years younger.

Her voice was now strong. "You are right, mija. I am ashamed of myself. Of course, my Carlito wouldn't leave me without saying goodbye. He is strong and smart and even devious when he needs to be," she said, as a slight grin played at her mouth.

She waved her arm across the open grave. "This is nothing to me. My Carlos is not here, not for many, many years to come. Tell me, what do we do next? How do we help him come home?" Her face had the same fierce determined set to it that I'd seen in Ranger's when he'd made up his mind about something.

As we moved a little away from the grave, a tall thin man wearing mirrored sunglasses (on an overcast day?) stepped into our path. He wore a black trench coat over a black suit and on his head was a hat. A real hat, not just a baseball cap. He reminded me of a predatory hawk with a hooked nose and a thin mouth.

When he spoke, it was with a rumbling bass. "Ladies, you do not know me, but I knew Carlos Mañoso. I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. I feel compelled to warn you. You may believe anything you wish, but be careful who you tell your beliefs to." He walked us a little further away from the activity around the grave.

"Who are you?" I demanded to know.

"Who I am is not important right now. I can't stay here for long. It's too dangerous." He glanced around. There were still a few people left on the hill.

"There are 'ears' everywhere and there are people looking to make trouble. Please believe me when I tell you it is in Carlos Mañoso's best interest if you give the appearance of believing he is dead. I'm going to tell you something that our government would not want you to know and I strongly suggest you do not repeat it."

The tall man leaned forward and in a low voice said, "The Venezuelan government has uncovered the identities of the men who they believe destroyed several important facilities in Venezuela seven months ago. They have accused these men, who are U.S. citizens, in the alleged sabotage. The Venezuelan president hates America with a passion and would stop at nothing to embarrass us with charges of espionage. I regret to inform you that Carlos Mañoso is one of the men being charged."

Sonia gasped and fell back against me. She must have known the type of work her son was involved in, but hearing it in this manner was still shocking.

The man continued without regard to our reactions. "Up to now, the U.S. government has been able to placate Venezuela, but the issue is far from over. Carlos has been missing in action since the incidents took place and he is considered dead by the U.S. government. However, the Venezuelan government is still searching for him."

A cold chill ran through me as I pictured Ranger running for his life from a relentless dictatorship that wanted his head on a platter. Where could he be hiding?

"Do you know where Ranger is?" I asked in a low voice. All I got in response was a slight head shake.

Still leaning close to us, the stranger went on, "This funeral today was a good thing. The Venezuelan government had their people in the crowd observing and taking pictures. There are those of us who believe as you do and we will help if we can, but Carlos Mañoso must remain 'dead' for all intents and purposes." The thin man straightened and stepped back. "You never saw me, we never spoke."

Before I could react, he slipped me a small business card and then turned and strode briskly down the hill, getting into a black town car and driving swiftly away.

I was speechless. Turning the card over in my hand, I saw a phone number. That was it, just the number. No name, no address. I thrust the card in my coat pocket and turned back to the equally shocked woman at my side.

Ranger's mother was clinging to my arm, her mouth open as we pondered what to make of that unexpected encounter. We agreed not to mention the stranger or what he said to anyone, not even our families. I told Sonia I would check his story out and be in touch with her. Her family was waiting impatiently at the bottom of the hill, so we exchanged phone numbers and went our separate ways.


	22. Chapter 22 Full Circle

**Chapter 22—Full Circle**

_Life was so much easier when my clothes didn't match and boys had cooties._

Stephanie's POV

As I drove away from the cemetery, my mind was racing with the possibilities brought on by my mystery man. Who was he and how did he know about Ranger? But more importantly, for me, for the first time since Ranger had gone MIA, someone besides me believed Ranger could still be alive. And now I had Sonia Mañoso on my side. Part of me was lifted up and part of me was still really down. I guess even sham funerals can do that to a person.

Damn! I missed Ranger so much. While I had renewed hope, I was also sad and feeling lonely. It was still early in the day. I didn't want to go home to an empty apartment.

Since I was already in New Jersey, I decided to drive down to Trenton and visit my Grandma Mazur. Grandma was still enjoying living away from my father – as I'm sure my father was enjoying a Grandma-free house. At least my salary was enough that I could continue to pay half the rent on my old apartment so she could have her independence.

Walking up the stairs of the old building brought back lots of memories, not all of them pleasant. After living in a posh loft in DC, I realized how nice a little luxury could be and I was addicted. I made the spontaneous decision that when my DEA contract was up, I'd look for a new place to live, outside of the Burg.

Grandma swung open the apartment door and gave me a big hug. "How are you feeling, granddaughter?" she asked, all sad eyes and serious. Everyone in the Burg knew Ranger's 'funeral' was this morning.

I walked into a flame red foyer. _Someone_ had been doing a little redecorating in my old apartment. "I guess you heard about the funeral services?" I said, not really wanting to talk about it.

Grandma ushered me into the living room. "I know Ranger was special to you, honey. I'm sorry."

I knew she meant well, but I didn't think I could take too much more. And then I took in my surroundings.

Mouth wide open, I stopped in the middle of the room and did a 360. I'd been transported into a French bordello. The walls had been papered with a dark red brocade, the easy chair had been replaced with a gold velvet chaise lounge and standing in the far corner was a bronze coat tree draped with a royal purple feather boa and black fishnet stockings. There were two new end tables each with a base of a nude couple in a suggestive embrace. Even the table lamps had been embellished with dangling crystal beads.

Grandma was lovingly stroking the gold brocade drapes framing the window. "Isn't it beautiful?" she said.

"I'm speechless, Grandma." Turning a full circle again, I took in the gaudy flamboyant ambiance of the room. "Has Dillon seen your redecorating job?" I asked, wondering how she managed all this atrocious work without the super, Dillon, knowing about it.

She cackled, "Dillon not only papered the walls for me, he designed both this room and the bedroom. You're gonna die when you see what he did in there."

That was an understatement!

The rest of my visit with Grandma was uneventful and we didn't talk anymore about Ranger, which suited me fine. I promised to call every week and left Grandma stretched out like a geriatric seductress on her velvet chaise.

As I walked across the parking lot to my car, an SUV pulled up alongside me.

"Hey, Cupcake, doing a little slumming in the Burg?"

"Joe, it's been a while. I was just visiting my Grandma."

He parked and got out. I was tired and just wanted to go home, but if Joe was extending an olive branch, I felt I should accept it. We stood in the lot leaning against his vehicle and caught up on each other's lives. He asked about my job with the DEA and I asked if Bob had chewed up any furniture lately. It was like old times. Actually, it was nicer than old times. So when he brought up the next topic, he caught me off guard.

"I heard you were at Mañoso's funeral today. My condolences, Steph. How are you holding up?" He reached out and gently stroked my arm.

I'd been doing so-so all day, pushing aside the despair that threatened to overwhelm me, but I was tired – tired of being the lone voice; tired of keeping a stiff upper lip. Tears started rolling down my cheeks and suddenly, Joe had his arms around me.

He was rubbing my back and whispering, "Let it out, Steph. Get him out of your system. You'll feel better once you've had a good cry."

_What?_ I pulled back and yelled, "Get him out of my _system_? _A good cry_? You think that's all I need? Ranger's the love of my life, and you think I should just have a cry and move on?"

I stared at him, not believing what he just said to me. Maybe I was overreacting, maybe I was just tired. Maybe I was feeling guilty for letting myself cry, but Joe had never liked Ranger and I resented his implication of 'getting him out of my system,' like he was a virus.

The 'love of my life' statement must have hit him hard and he winced, closing his eyes for a second. But I was tired of being PC and polite. I pushed the despair I'd been feeling out of my heart and let it fill with anger, an emotion I was becoming all too familiar with. I let go with the first thing that popped into my head.

"If I'd died when you and I were together, that's all the reaction you'd have? Get me out of your system with a good cry and move on to the next girl? Thanks, Joe."

He ran his hand through his hair and looked down at his feet. "Of course not, I didn't mean anything by that. I was just trying to be supportive. Who knows the right thing to say at a time like this?"

He reached for my hand, but I waved him off, feeling the need to hold on to my anger or else I'd start crying again. Now _this_ felt like old times with Joe and I. In a flash, I could clearly see the part I'd played in our doomed relationship. It made me miss Ranger even more.

Saying it more to myself than to Joe, "Besides, today's funeral was just for show. Ranger's still alive, somewhere. I know it.

Joe shook his head. "Cupcake, I know you like to live in denial when things don't go your way, but this is beyond denial. He's gone. Ranger's dead and buried. And I know you don't want to hear this, but maybe it's for the best. He lived a dangerous life and as long as you were involved with him, you were in danger, too. He was always a loose cannon." He stepped closer and cupped my upper arm with his palm. "Steph, he could never have offered you the stable life I can."

I just stared at him, unable to believe what I was hearing. He tried to pull me back into an embrace, but I held out my arm, keeping him at a distance.

He went on, "Tomorrow's Saturday. How 'bout I drive down to see you? We can go out to dinner and then talk. I promise I'll take things slow. I know you're grieving, but the sooner you accept reality and move on, the better. Let me be there for you… okay, babe?"

**Babe?** Did he just call me _Babe? And did he just ask me out on a date on the same day I supposedly buried the man I loved? How many times did I have to tell him, we were over? _

After the day I'd had, my anger boiled over. Drawing back my arm, I slugged him in the gut. I took a perverse pleasure watching him double over, with just a twinge of regret for my violent outburst. My past experience with Joe, though, was that he didn't listen to my words. Some men needed to be hit over the head with a two by four before they paid attention.

"_You_ need to accept reality, Joe. You and I… it's never going to happen, so move on. Okay_, BABE?_"

I marched over to my car and got in. A smile broke out on my face as I turned the engine over. I guess I just needed to release a little pent up tension. The drive back to DC wasn't going to be as bad as I thought.

0o0o0o0o0o

It was late evening when I arrived at my DC apartment. I was exhausted, both mentally and physically. I flipped the light switch on in the kitchen and dropped my umbrella, coat and purse on the counter and moved over to Rex's cage. I needed a little understanding and Rex was good at that.

"Today was a really shitty day, Rex. I was mean to my friends and I lost it with Joe. I don't have all that many friends to be pushing any of them away, especially now."

A gravelly voice sounded out of the darkness of the living room, sending my adrenaline sky high.

"It's nice to hear you say that, even if it isn't an actual apology." Recognizing the voice, my heart dropped back out of my throat. I turned to face Tank, who had risen from the easy chair and moved into the light.

"How'd you get in? The door was locked…" I rolled my eyes at my own stupid question. All RangeMen could get in anywhere they wanted. "Why are you here, Tank?"

"We need to talk."

"I don't think we have anything to talk about."

Tank sat down on one of the bar stools next to the counter. He was having a hard time maintaining eye contact with me. "There are some things you don't know, Steph. Some things I learned a few weeks ago. Things I should have told you, but I thought I was protecting you by keeping silent." He finally looked at me. "Now, I realize by not telling you, I could be putting you in danger."

I thought back on our last phone conversation and the betrayal I felt when Tank told me to accept Ranger's death. It had seemed out of character for him and heartless. Tank was definitely a badass, but he was also a really nice guy and extremely loyal to his friends. He wouldn't hurt me unless he had a really good reason. My heart softened a little, but I was still mad at him.

I met his gaze and said, "If you're talking about the Venezuelan government spying on Ranger's family and friends in an effort to find him, then save your breath."

His eyes widened and his mouth parted ever so slightly. I'd never seen Tank surprised before. Quicker than lightning, he came around to my side of the counter, looming over me. "How did you find out about that? Did they approach you? What did you tell them?" he snapped off the questions in rapid fire succession.

I put my hands on his chest and gave a shove, trying to back him up just a little, but it was like pushing against an elephant, a very large aggressive bull elephant. To regain my personal space, I stepped around him to the fridge and grabbed two bottles of beer.

"Calm down, Tank." I handed him one of the bottles and opened mine, taking a long pull. "They didn't talk to me, but they were there today, at the cemetery, watching and taking pictures."

Tank frowned. "You saw them? How did you…" He had such a confused look on his face and I know it was wrong, but I laughed. To be able to get one over on Tank was a good feeling. Thank you, Mr. Thin Man, whoever you are.

"You're not the only who has secret contacts… I have my own sources of information," I grinned. "But, I think it's high time you told me what you know, what you've been keeping from me."

Tank moved back around the counter and sat down again. Opening his beer, he nearly downed the entire thing in one gulp. If it had been me, that swig would have been followed by a loud burp, but Tank was silent, thinking.

He polished off his beer and, after a long sigh he apologized, as much as Tank ever did. "I underestimated you, Steph. You get too much of that already. I should have trusted you and told you straight away."

He put his head in his hands, rubbing his face and then he began, "A little over two weeks ago, I got a call from my DC contact." I raised my eyebrows. "Yeah, the same one who told me Ranger was MIA. He told me the Venezuelan government had been pressuring our government to admit we sent spies to their country. We denied the accusations, of course, and then the Venezuelan government said they had proof. Physical, tangible proof. That either means they have photographic evidence or they have an informant. That informant could be an American citizen, even one of the team sent to gather evidence."

"Ranger?" I whispered, barely breathing.

He shook his head. "No, according to my contact, they're still looking for Ranger."

Relief swept through me, however, if he was being held captive it would explain why he hadn't contacted any of us.

Tank went on, "My contact did tell me that the Venezuelan government knew Bobby and Lester and I had gone down looking for Ranger. They also know about the shootout at the mine. What they don't know, is you. That you were with us. I want to keep it that way, Steph. I wasn't comfortable talking about this over the phone, but I should have driven here and told you in person when I first found out about it. Since they didn't know about you, I thought the less contact I had with you the better, in case I was being watched."

He didn't quite come out and tell me he was sorry, but the look on his face said it all. It was nice to see something other than a blank expression. I ran around the counter and melted into his open arms, welcoming the hug he'd tried to give me earlier today at the cemetery.

The hug was brief. These macho men couldn't let their emotions show for very long. We both sat back down on bar stools.

"My contact made it very clear that Ranger needed to be 'dead' as far as his friends and family were concerned. That's when I told the Mañosos about Ranger. Then, when you called after you met with O'Connell, I knew I needed to jolt you somehow. I needed you to stop bringing attention to Ranger. I thought you'd accept it if I told you in no uncertain terms that he was dead. I misjudged you, Stephanie. It won't happen again." His big paw wrapped around mine and he gently squeezed my hand.

Tears stung my eyes at his confession. I squeezed back. "You should have been upfront with me, Tank. Promise, no more secrets?"

"No more secrets. But it does mean that we can't risk another trip to South America. We're being monitored and if we set foot in Venezuela, we'll be arrested. There are others who are searching for Ranger. It's best if you don't know any more about that." He saw the look on my face and put up his hand. "No, I'm not keeping secrets, but the less detail you know, or anyone knows, the better. There are 'ears' everywhere."

That was the second time I'd heard that phrase today. I debated whether to tell Tank about the thin man, but decided to hold that piece of information a while longer. I needed to think about everything that had happened today. I yawned; the day's confusing and draining events had worn me out. Tank got up to leave, gave me another hug and few words of caution and then he was gone. The silence in the loft seemed deafening. I dropped some crunchies in Rex's bowl, turned out the lights and went straight to bed.

At least one little corner of my world was back where it belonged. Tank and I had come full circle and we were friends again.


	23. Chapter 23 He's All Yours

**Chapter 23—He's All Yours**

_Remember there's no such thing as a small act of kindness._

_Every act creates a ripple with no logical end._

Ranger's/Marc's POV

For the first time since I started on this long trek north, I had my doubts I would survive. I'd been walking across the hot desert for nearly three days now without a drop of water or speck of food. For the last few hours I'd been pushing myself past my limits of endurance and my body had finally reached its breaking point.

What was to have been a half-day's rough ride in a jeep through the southern deserts of Arizona had turned into a life or death foot march through some of the most hellish terrain on earth. No water, no trees, no roads, no buildings, nothing but sharp rocks, spiny cacti and punishing heat. There was no relief from the unrelenting sun. The air temperature had to be close to 120 degrees and the ground temp had to exceed 160. Sitting under a tree, if you could call anything that grew here a tree, trying to take advantage of the meager shade was out of the question after mid-morning. The ground was simply too hot.

Three days ago, when we'd driven up to the border fence, which turned out to be a loosely strung three-strand barbed wire fence about four feet high, Nacho told me to get out and open the gate. The 'gate' was simply a place where the barbed wire had been cut and jury-rigged with an additional piece of wire. As soon as I reached the gate, that bastard Nacho backed up the jeep and started to speed away. I gave chase and he pulled a gun, firing several shots at me in quick succession. I didn't stop until a bullet slammed into my left shoulder, knocking me down. Watching the jeep tear across the desert away from me was a hard pill to swallow. I knew my only hope of making it through this fucking hot ordeal had just left me to die.

There I was stranded in the middle of nowhere with no water, no food, no cell phone and an injured shoulder. I could either try to walk back to the last Mexican town we'd passed which was at least forty miles to the southeast or continue on across the border into the United States. From the glimpse I'd gotten of Nacho's map, the closest U.S. town, Ajo (Spanish for garlic), was more than forty-five miles north of the border. Nacho had warned me that the locals weren't very forgiving of those crossing the border illegally and would report us to the Border Patrol if they saw us. That meant avoiding all roads and towns. I chose north, to my future.

I examined the gunshot wound in my shoulder. The bullet hadn't gone in very far. Taking a deep breath, I pressed in deep around the opening until the slug popped out. Tearing off a piece of my shirt, I pressed hard against the wound. After a few minutes of pressure, the bleeding stopped. The only thing left for me to do was start walking.

Forty-five miles didn't sound all that far, but there were obstacles to overcome, the enervating heat the main problem. There were also desert hills and canyons to cross, all without food or water. After just a few hours into the march, sweating like a stuck pig, I could see why so many people died trying to cross this desolate stretch of the desert.

One day, I would return to Mexico and find Nacho. I kept myself going by plotting the different ways I would torture and then kill the bastard for leaving me to die. I surprised myself at my inventiveness.

Now, after three days of enduring the relentless heat, little sleep and no water, I'd reached my limit. Stumbling, I went down on one knee and reached out to steady myself only to jerk my hand back in pain. What I'd imagined was a fence post was actually a tall narrow cactus covered in sharp spines. My vision was blurry, I was unsteady on my feet and I'd stopped sweating. Something told me that was not a good sign.

The only thing that kept me going was the memory of a glimpse of green I'd seen when I topped the last hill a few hours ago.

I forced myself to my feet and kept going, one step in front of the other. The sun beat down on me with an intensity that was excruciating. My throat was parched, my lips were swollen and cracked and I couldn't catch my breath. My skin felt like it was being seared under a blowtorch.

Something about this never-ending trek gave me a sense of déjà vu. Had I made this march before or maybe experienced something similar?

Images of the lush green Amazon rainforest and the cool refreshing evening river bath with the Ye'kuana kept seeping into my mind. And then the thought that I would die out here, never finding out who I was, if anyone was waiting for me, looking for me, flashed through my head. That way lay madness and I banished it and all other thought but surviving this hellish torture.

I don't know how long I kept it up, but the next time I stumbled to the ground I looked around and could swear there were real trees in front of me. And water. I thought I was hallucinating. First, crawling on my hands and knees and then slowly dragging my body forward, I inched closer to the heavenly moisture. Finally, my hands sank into wetness… and mud.

In sheer exhaustion, I collapsed and my head sank into a shallow pool of warm murky water, but before I could swallow any of the precious liquid I was yanked up and out of the oasis by some force grabbing the back of my neck.

"_No trague. Escupirla!_" a loud voice cried and I felt a sharp whack between my shoulder blades. [_Don't swallow. Spit it out!_]

I had nothing to spit out. Too weak to resist, I felt my body being dragged across the hot ground until—relief—shade enveloped me. Cool refreshing shade and then water was being poured over my hot scorched skin, precious water soaking into my hair and over my face and finally, into my mouth. Greedily, I sucked in every drop I could until I started coughing.

"Calma. Aqui está el aqua." [_Easy. Here's water.]_ A bottle was held to my lips and I opened my mouth like a baby bird waiting for its parents to ram sustenance down its throat. In my case, it was cool wet water filling my mouth and flowing down my parched throat. A simple sip of water never tasted so good, never felt so good. I couldn't get enough and then it was taken from me.

I reached out and my hand tangled in a head full of curls, a wild mass of soft curly brown hair. "_Babe?_" I croaked. Opening my eyes, I expected to look up into blue eyes and my heart dropped. It wasn't her. The eyes were a deep blue green.

_It wasn't who?_ _Who was I expecting? What was it about blue eyes that kept invading my limited memories?_

My restless mind filtered out to the rest of my body and I tried to sit up, but I was too weak to do much more than lean against the trunk of the tree. I could feel someone's hands steadying me, but my eyes burned and I had a hard time keeping them open. I wanted more water, but all that came out of my mouth was a hoarse croak. Finally, I managed a few words, "Agua, por favor." [_Water, please_.]

"Hay más agua en mi camión. ¿Puedes levantarte?" A soft voice sounded close to my ear. [_There's more water in my truck. Can you get up?]_

As I struggled to rise, strong hands supported me, and a soft feminine voice encouraged me to stand and then walk. I allowed myself to lean on her – it was definitely a woman – and we slowly made our way out of the shade and back into the blazing sun. My eyes automatically slammed shut.

"A poco pasos más. Sigue andando. Está bien." The voice coaxed me to continue. [_Just a few more steps. Keep walking. That's good._]

And then I felt the door of a vehicle. It was open and I awkwardly pulled myself in relying on the remaining strength of my right arm since my left arm radiated pain whenever I used it. I collapsed on the seat and cradled my left arm in my lap. It was stifling inside the vehicle, but I was in shade and the vehicle was familiar, a sanctuary that could save my life, get me out of this hellish heat, this torture.

I lay back, resting my head, unable to focus on anything. A bottle was placed in my right hand and with considerable effort, I raised it to my lips and drank. Again, even though the water was warm it was the best thing I'd ever tasted. This time I didn't cough and drank the entire thing. I heard an engine turn over and then we were moving.

It didn't seem like we'd gone very far when the truck stopped and a voice said, "Estamos aqui. ¿Puedes caminar?" [_We're here. Can you walk?_] Unable to open my eyes more than a slit, I saw a woman come around to my side of the vehicle. She opened the truck door and offered her hand. "Vamos." [_Come on_.]

With her help, I made it down a gravel path and up two wooden steps into a trailer. For the first time in days, I felt cool air blowing across my face. She wouldn't let me sit down when we passed a couch. Instead, she forced me to walk down a long hall and into a small bathroom.

She let me lean against the counter while she proceeded to undress me. I tried to stop her, but she just pushed my hands away. I had no strength to resist.

"Necesita enfriarse… y rapido. Pongámonos entrar en la ducha." [_You need to cool down… and fast. Let's get you in the shower_.]

The next thing I knew I was standing under a welcome spray of cool water. It flowed over every inch of my inflamed skin, quenching the heat and dryness. My right hand was pressed flat against the cool tile in front of me and I dipped my head to feel the refreshing liquid flow over my head and down my back. Then I raised my head and let the water flow into my mouth, drinking in huge gulps of the life-giving liquid.

I don't know how long I stood there lost in the moment, but suddenly I was aware of a presence near me. With an effort, I turned my head, readying myself to fight. There was a woman standing a few feet away, holding a towel.

It was the first time I'd been able to fully open my eyes. My 'threat' was an attractive woman who looked to be in her mid-thirties. She was fairly short, trim and very tan and had a head full of curly brown hair and large blue green eyes. I assessed her, taking in her relaxed stance, and as a smile broke out on her face, I relaxed. She projected a quiet, calming presence, which in turn calmed me down.

Even her voice was low and calm. "¿Mejor? ¿Cómo te sientes ahora?" [_Better? How do you feel now?_] I nodded, unsure if my aching throat would allow me to speak.

She stepped closer and touched my left shoulder, causing me to flinch and then she laid the back of her hand against my cheek. "Se siente mucho más frescas." [_You feel much cooler_.] "Creo que lo peor ha pasado." [_I think the worst is over_.] "Pero el hombro es la hemorragia. Voy a tener que vendarlo." [_But your shoulder is bleeding. I'll need to bandage it._]

Leaning in front of me, she turned off the water and held out the towel. I wrapped the thin worn strip of cloth around my waist and stepped out of the shower, but faltered a bit. Immediately, she put her arms around me and steadied me. She was quite a bit shorter than I was, but she felt strong and sure of herself as she supported my weight.

"Gracias," I choked out, grateful I had a semblance of a voice. [_Thank you_.]

"De nada." [_It's nothing_.] This quiet woman just saved my life and she tells me it's nothing.

I leaned against the sink while she applied a generous amount of antiseptic cream to my wound and then taped a thick bandage over it. She helped me down the hall and into a bedroom. I stopped at the doorway, but she nudged me forward until I sat down on the edge of the bed.

Handing me a large bottle of Gatorade, she said, "Bebe esto. Esto ayudará a reemplazar sus sales y tiene azúcar en el. Necesita el líquido y el aumento de energía." [_Drink this. It will help replace your salts and it has sugar in it. You need the liquid and the energy boost_.]

I drank the entire thing in a few gulps. Reaching over, she pushed a strand of wet hair behind my ear and held the back of her hand against my forehead and smiled. Then she took the empty bottle from me and gave a gentle nudge to my right shoulder. Just that slight push toppled me over and I lay down on the bed. The sensation of a crisp cool sheet being pulled over my body was a familiar and comforting one.

"Dormir. Estás seguro aquí." [_Sleep. You're safe here_.] Her voice was soothing and I fell into a deep sleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

0o0o0o0o0o

The sun was just rising. Disoriented, I sat up in bed and my head began spinning. Holding my throbbing head in my hands I tried to get my bearings. I was in a small bedroom, and I was naked except for a bandage on my left shoulder. The bandage was clean with no blood seeping through. Then my thirst took over all other thoughts. There was a full bottle of water on the nightstand and I drank it, my body grateful for the relief. Flashes of memory put things in perspective. I was dying in the desert and a woman found me and brought me here.

Panic surged through me. I remembered I'd crossed the border illegally. It was dangerous to trust anyone. What if she turned me over to the authorities? I'd be deported back to… where would they deport me to? I didn't know where I belonged. Well, I felt I belonged here, in the States, but I had no proof I was a citizen. I had no proof of who I was. I needed to get out of here; I needed to meet up with Illiana.

Looking around the room, I didn't see my clothes, but there was a pair of brown pants and a khaki-colored shirt draped over the back of a chair. On the chair seat, neatly folded, were a pair of navy blue boxers, a pair of white socks and a white t-shirt. A beat up pair of work boots were lined up under the chair. Quickly, I donned all the clothes except for the boxers. They looked brand new, but I hadn't worn any underwear since I woke up in the Amazon village. The pants were a bit loose and the shirt was a tight fit, but adequate.

I glanced in the mirror that was hanging over the dresser and realized the shirt I'd put on was a uniform shirt. The patch on the sleeve read 'National Park Service' and the narrow gold bar pinned over the left breast pocket read 'K. Baldwin.' Okay, for today I was K. Baldwin. One name was as good as another when you couldn't remember anything about your past.

I moved quietly down the hall, hoping I could slip out unnoticed. Then I heard a voice call to me. "Buenos dias. Cómo estás?" [_Good morning. How are you?_]

The curly-haired woman was in the kitchen stirring scrambled eggs in a pan. She was wearing short navy blue pajama bottoms and a navy blue and red t-shirt; she was barefoot. There was a bed pillow and neatly folded sheets on the end cushion of the couch in the living room.

If she hadn't turned me in yet, it was a good bet she wasn't going to. I just had to trust her. Entering the kitchen, I said, "Muy bien. Y tú?" [_I'm good. And you?]_

"Soy gran," she responded, smiling. [_I'm great.] _"¿Cómo está tu cabeza? ¿Quieres una aspirina?"_ [How's your head? Do you want an aspirin?]_

"Gracias. Estaría bien." [_Thank you. That would be nice_.]

She opened an upper cupboard and took out a small white bottle and then stepped over to the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water. Handing them to me, she said, "Estaban en muy mal estado ayer. Esto debería ayudar." [_You were in pretty bad shape yesterday. This should help_.]

Downing a couple of pills with the cold water, I had a flashback to a few months ago, remembering the aspirin Illiana had given me and remembering the openness and generosity of the Ye'kuana. I guess good people were the same the world over.

This woman standing in front of me had saved me from a life or death situation, much the same as Joran had done so many months ago when everything in my life had changed. Maybe things were about to change again.

The look she shot me was full of curiosity and then she turned back to the stove. Her curly brown hair and blue (green) eyes still had me puzzled. It seemed so familiar to me.

Then the aroma of the food she was cooking hit my nostrils. It smelled delicious. I realized my stomach was empty. She was adding handfuls of diced mushrooms, red bell peppers and scallions to the pan of scrambled eggs. She smiled over at me and gestured to a table set for two.

Looking me up and down, she said softly, "You fill out that uniform so much better than my ex. Boy, if he looked as good as you do, I might still be married. You are _one handsome man_."

I smiled at the compliment and said, "Thank you."

Her eyes got big and her cheeks became two bright spots of red. "You speak _English?_" she asked, her voice several octaves higher.

"Yes," I replied. Her blushing hit a chord in me and I found I was amused by her embarrassment.

"_Omigod_. I apologize for those inappropriate comments. It's just…" her voice trailed off and she turned her back to me, pulling the pan off the stove. "Please, sit down. Breakfast's ready." I guess we were going to speak English now.

I swallowed a chuckle and moved over to the table and sat down at the place set with three bottles of water. I opened one and drank half of it in a single swallow. I just couldn't get enough.

She divided the eggs onto two plates and laid a heaping plate of scrambled eggs with vegetables, toast and sausage in front of me. "The toast is Wonderbread and the sausage is pork. Hope you don't mind eating a bit unhealthy?" Yesterday, I was at death's door. Today, anything sounded good to me.

She poured two glasses of orange juice, setting them on the table and then sat down across from me. "I don't have any coffee, but if you need a caffeine fix there's a coke in the fridge and some bars of chocolate in that cookie jar on the counter."

_Someone else who keeps something other than cookies in her cookie jar._ Now where in the hell did that thought come from? This loss of memory thing was really beginning to wear on me.

It all seemed so unreal to me still. Waking up in a primitive village in the Amazon rainforest. The long journey through South and Central America. The impossible trek through the desert. Being rescued by this curly-haired, blue/green-eyed woman. I didn't even know her name. I realized I was staring at her.

She blushed again. "Go ahead, dig in." She shot a chagrinned look at me and asked, "Unless you want to say grace?" I shook my head.

I finally had to say what I was thinking. "You don't know anything about me, but you saved my life. You took me into your home, let me sleep in your bed and I'm now wearing what I assume to be your ex-husband's clothes. Why?"

She shrugged. "You needed help. I was able to give it. You needed a good night's sleep better than I did. And as good as you look naked, you can't go around like that in public." She dropped her head, trying to hide her spontaneous grin.

She looked back up. "The uniform was at the cleaners when my husband moved out. I certainly don't need it and it will give you an advantage on the road if you are stopped by… someone. They'll just see the freshly pressed Park Service uniform. You might want to tie back your hair… unless you run into a female officer." Again she dropped her head and grinned.

I pondered her statements. So she knew I'd crossed the border illegally and she was helping me anyway. How could I ever thank her?

We both ate our breakfast. I cleaned my plate. It had been a long time between meals. As she was clearing the table, she told me, "I'm driving into town this morning. Can I drop you off somewhere?"

"How far are we from a town called Gila Bend?" I asked.

"About an hour and a half away."

"Could you drop me off there?"

"Yes. I have to pass through Gila Bend on my way into Phoenix. Will you be ready to leave in half an hour?"

"That'd be fine," I answered.

I glanced at the phone on the kitchen counter, remembering I had to call Illiana and let her know I got across the border. I was several days late meeting up with her and I hoped she was still nearby. We had arranged for Gila Bend to be the emergency pick up point if things went wrong.

"May I use your phone to call my ride? It will be a long-distance call, but I'll keep it short."

"Of course. Don't worry about it." She pushed the phone toward me and then disappeared down the hall, giving me privacy.

I dialed the number I'd memorized. Illiana picked up on the second ring. "Yes?" she answered, a note of fear in her voice.

"It's me. I'm alright."

"Oh, Marco. It's so good to hear from you." The relief was evident in her voice. "What happened? For the past four days, I've been going out of my mind and regretting ever letting you do this. There are such horror stories about people dying in the desert trying to cross the border. Are you sure you're okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine," I said, and briefly explained what happened with that bastard Nacho and then the rescue by my guardian angel. I finished with our backup plan. "I can be at the location we discussed in about two hours. How about you?"

"That's perfect. I'm still in Casa Grande and I can meet you just as we planned. Keep a low profile and stay out of sight as much as possible." We disconnected.

When the woman returned to the living room she was wearing the same type of uniform I had on. Her name tag read 'T. Baldwin.'

I smiled. "We match. What do the T and K stand for?"

She studied me for a moment. "Given our particular situation, let's pretend they stand for Terra and Kane. The less we know about each other, the fewer problems there'll be if anything happens."

"You could get in trouble for helping me?"

"If I knew for a fact you entered the U.S. illegally and I helped you, then yes. Good thing I don't know that." She grinned and then handed me a heavy day pack.

"I washed your clothes last night. I also packed you some snacks, a lunch and several bottles of water. There are a few fresh bandages, adhesive tape and antiseptic cream for your shoulder. And a few extra items that might come in handy while traveling. For the next few days, please drink more water than you think you need. You had a close call yesterday and your system needs time to rehydrate."

"Thank you… Terra," I replied. And I was grateful to her, more than I could ever express. I wondered if I was the first lost soul she'd helped; somehow I doubted it.

I glanced inside the bag and in addition to the clean clothes, food and drink, there were small packages of soap, shampoo, toothpaste, sun block, a disposable razor, a comb, a toothbrush, a washcloth, a red bandanna, and, of all things, a small pocket knife that showed some wear on the bone handle.

I picked the knife up and opened it. It was made by Case. "This is a very nice knife. I can't accept this." I closed the blade and handed it to her.

She waved it away. "Sure you can. It was my father's. If he were here, he'd give it to you himself. He always said a man needs a good pocket knife."

I gazed at her, deciding, and then slipped it into my front pants pocket. Having a knife on my person, even a small one, gave me an immediate sense of calm, though I had no idea why. "I can't even begin to thank you enough for everything you've done for me. If karma is real, you should be in for a big reward very soon."

That got a chuckle from her. "I've had my share of bad things happen to me and there was always someone there to help me. I'm just paying it forward."

We left the trailer and got into her old Chevy truck. She had to whack the dashboard several times before it would start, then she backed out onto the paved two-lane road and headed north. After a while, we passed by some buildings and then an open gate with a large stuccoed sign that read 'Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument.'

"You live in a National Monument?" I asked.

"Yep. I'm a ranger," she said. Startled, I jerked my head to look at her. _Why did that word hit me so hard?_

She frowned at my odd reaction. "I'm a park ranger. You know, we wear the Smokey the Bear hat and give interpretive walks and campfire talks. We study and protect nature. What, you don't think a woman can be a park ranger?"

"No, no, it's not that. I… I… it's nothing." Another glimpse into my shadowy past, triggered by a single word. I asked her about her job and it was obvious she loved what she did. I also learned how lucky I was to have made it as far into Arizona as I had. And even luckier still to have been found by Terra. She said I was the first 'lost hiker' she'd found alive.

When we drove through the town of Ajo, it hit me that I would never have made it that far on foot. Again, I thanked Terra for finding me and saving my life.

"You were lucky I stopped by Quitobaquito to check on the pupfish population," she replied.

"Excuse me?"

She chuckled, "One of the species I'm studying is the desert pupfish, a small colorful native fish well adapted to living in desert springs. They live in Quitobaquito Springs, which is part of the wildlife refuge. That's the pond you nearly drank from. It's highly alkaline and during this time of the year is undrinkable. Your body wouldn't have reacted well if you'd drunk any of it." She made a face, scrunching up her lips and nose and I got the general idea.

I thanked her again for not only saving my life, but also helping me avoid getting seriously ill. Not wanting to talk about anything too personal, I asked her more questions about her research and found myself fascinated by her extensive knowledge of the desert. It would have come in handy during my little 'hike.'

We finally entered the outskirts of Gila Bend and it was obvious we would be all the way through town in a minute or two. Gila Bend wasn't a very large place.

"Where to?" Terra asked.

"The Dairy Queen."

She laughed. "Of course. Everyone stops at the DQ in Gila Bend. It must be some kind of a rule." She swung the truck into a parking spot and turned off the engine.

"Do you want a cup a joe?" she asked.

"No _joe_, please." Again, a knee jerk reaction to a single word. I'd drunk coffee with Illiana on the journey up here and liked it, but for some reason just the thought of a cup of joe turned me off.

"OK, how 'bout an ice cream cone? They have one here named after a local character, the _Clyde Cone_… it's flavored with Dr. Pepper. Or… I know, what about a milkshake? They make a great date milkshake, from locally grown dates. It's their best seller… I'll buy. It'll be my treat!"

"_Date_ milkshake? Well, if it's the local specialty, how can I turn that down?"

We both got out and Terra walked inside the store while I leaned against the truck. It was still early in the morning and the thermometer on one of the signs down the street registered 101 degrees. Surprisingly, in the broad shade of the ramada we'd parked under, it didn't feel oppressively hot like it had yesterday. But even so, I would be glad to leave the desert behind.

Terra returned with two large waxed paper cups with long-handled plastic spoons. She explained, "They're so thick, you need a spoon to eat them." We sat down at one of the outside tables and I dug into the creamy concoction.

"This is good, really good. Not too sweet. And the fact that it's ice cold is a definite plus. Thank you, Terra."

"You're welcome… Kane." She grinned when she called me that. But it wasn't any more odd than Illiana calling me Marco. Neither were my real name. _Would I ever know the name I was born with?_

We ate in silence for awhile and then Terra's eyes focused on a car pulling into the parking lot. "I think your ride's here."

Turning, I saw Illiana getting out of a white Subaru. I stood and went to greet her.

She threw her arms around me and hugged me tight. "You've lost weight," she exclaimed. "And you're sunburned and your lips are chapped."

"After being abandoned by my 'friend' Nacho, I'm a little the worse for wear, but I'll live, thanks to Terra. Come… let me introduce you to my ángel del desierto." [_angel of the desert_]

I led her over to the picnic table and introduced Illiana to Terra. "Terra found me in the desert on my last legs—actually I was crawling on my hands and knees – just as I was going to drink some water that Terra assures me would have made me extremely ill. And then she let me stay at her place last night, making sure I drank lots of water and had a good meal in my belly. I owe her my life."

Illiana was profusive in her thanks to Terra, as was I. Terra waved our thanks off. "I'm a ranger, rescuing park visitors is just part of the job. I'm glad I was in the right place at the right time."

"No one's happier about that than I am," I added, staring at Terra, trying to memorize her face, her voice, realizing we'd probably never see each other again. I couldn't believe how fast I'd established a connection to this kind stranger. And for some reason, knowing she was a _ranger_ made it all the more special, though I had no idea why.

Illiana reminded me that we had a long drive ahead of us. She asked Terra, "Do we go north or south to get back to the Interstate, to the Nine?"

Terra frowned and clarified, "Well, there is no I-9 in Arizona. Interstate _Eight _is less than a mile to the south, but Eight's _hard_ to travel for people trying to avoid the Border Patrol." She looked meaningfully at me.

"Interstate _Ten_ is about thirty miles to the north. Both freeways take you to California, but Ten's the _big one_; it goes all the way across the country, lots of traffic and fewer patrolmen. I'd recommend I-10_._" She pointed, "Go north and take a left at the highway, and then just keep driving west."

I extended my hand to Terra, "Again, thank you for saving my life. I have no way of repaying you except with my heartfelt thanks." We shook hands and then, on impulse, I leaned down and kissed her cheek. "Vaya con Dios, mi amiga." [_Go with God, my friend._]

Illiana reached out and hugged her. "Thank you for taking such good care of him."

As they broke apart, Terra looked at Illiana and said, "He's all yours," like she was handing me off. And then she cut her eyes to me and added, "That was a figure of speech," as a sly smile tipped the corners of her mouth up.

Puzzled by her words, I wondered if, in my past life, I'd considered women such a mystery, too?

Terra got into her truck and headed back out to the highway on her way to Phoenix. Illiana and I did the same, but we were headed to San Francisco.


	24. Chapter 24 One A Day

**Chapter 24—One A Day**

_Trust your hunches. _

_They're usually based on facts filed away just below the conscious level._

_ Dr. Joyce Brothers_

Stephanie's POV

When I was a kid, I used to see these little black squiggly specks along the edges of my vision. My mother always told me they were 'floaters' inside my eyeball. _Yeah, right!_

I knew they were really these tiny gremlin-like creatures whose main goal in life was to drive me crazy trying to get a good look at them.

Well, this Sudden Death case was like the squigglies. The answer was lurking at the edges of my mind and if I could just get one good look at it, I knew I could solve this case.

With the help of my two able assistants, we'd finally accumulated and entered into our database several thousand records of drug-related deaths from the three high drug use areas in this region. The data went back for ten years in all the high profile cities covered under our operation. But it was still just a mass of data sitting on my hard drive, unless I could find a way to make sense of it all.

Late last night, I ran program after program, trying to figure out how they all related to each other. _And Bingo!_ My original assumption was proven out. Starting in New York City and moving south, the clusters of drug deaths followed one another, ending in DC, with just a delay of a few days each between cities. Each year, the same cycle played out approximately three times a year.

My theory was that some drug dealer had a regular route along the key eastern states and approximately every four months, give or take a few weeks, he spiked his stash with a deadly addition. The result was a massive die-off of his regular customers and anyone else who decided to get high right after his visits. I believed this guy had been Mario Rodriguez, the drug dealer I'd spied on in Trenton and Newark. With the DEA raid a few months ago, Mario was now sitting in a prison somewhere, but I was sure someone had already stepped in and taken his place. He was just a middle man, but a tight-lipped one. He'd refused to give up his supplier.

The next 'death cycle' was due in a little over a month, if Rodriguez's arrest hadn't altered the cycle, and of course, if my conclusions were right. I needed to get this information to my team ASAP. If we could find out who had taken Rodriguez's place, maybe we could disrupt the cycle and save hundreds of lives. But even better would be finding out who this sick bastard worked for.

0o0o0o0o

"This is excellent work. I knew I was right to continue this operation and bring you in on it. You never give up, do you, Stephanie?"

Pax smiled over at me. We were in the small conference room next to his office. He, along with the rest of the team, had been reading the report I'd prepared. I was last on the agenda. We'd already discussed the rest of the team's reports.

John, the loud-mouth on the team, glanced at every one sitting around the table, his eyes coming to rest on me. "I agree your stats are impressive, but why…? Why would a drug dealer purposely kill off his cash cows?"

I didn't have an answer for that.

Curt jumped in, "The bottom line for a pusher is always money. Keeping his junkies hooked is his goal. Killing them off in such high numbers every few months would decimate both his immediate profits and his long-term investments. It doesn't make any sense." The rest of the guys nodded in assent.

"I don't know why someone is killing off drug addicts," I sighed, knowing Curt was right. But not everything in this world makes sense, like Donald Trump's hair. Defending both my research and my spidey sense, I continued, "But I do know that those dying are from lower income neighborhoods and that…" I looked down at my report, "… 85 percent of the deaths are composed of minorities, mainly Hispanics and blacks."

From the looks on their faces, it was obvious the team hadn't read my report thoroughly. I followed that with my conclusion, "At first, I thought the person responsible might be someone who lost a child to a Hispanic or Black drug dealer, but the deaths are too widespread. I know it sounds a bit far-fetched, but could the motive be a _hate crime_… someone who hates people of color… or even an attempt at genocide?"

I wasn't ready for the loud guffaws that filled the room with rude sound. John was holding his sides as he laughed, "So let me get this straight, you're saying that first, our _Hitler_ drug lord spends months getting the 'darkie Jews' hooked on smack and then he slips 'em the lethal stuff. Then, he has to find a whole new crop of addicts of 'color' to buy his poison. Real efficient plan there, curly-top."

With a deep clearing of his throat, Pax admonished, "Can the sarcasm, John; keep it professional."

I crossed my arms and bit my lip. I knew I was a novice to this kind of work, but I also knew my data was good. There was something there; my spidey sense was screaming at me. I couldn't let John's ridiculing get me down.

I stood up and started pacing. "When Mario Rodriguez was arrested, the facts showed he was dealing drugs _all over_ Trenton, not just in the low income areas. But those low income areas were the only ones that had the cyclical die-offs of drug addicts. If the heroin Rodriguez was selling was bad, why haven't we seen the same percentage of deaths in the mainly white/high income areas of Trenton?"

I looked around at all the guys, but only Pax seemed to be listening to me. Focusing on Pax, I continued, "I think the low income areas were _targeted_. Someone is killing off minorities who also happen to be drug addicts. I'd like to follow up on that line."

"The data you pulled together on the death cycles are great. Good job, Steph." Pax dropped his eyes for a moment. "But let's concentrate on finding out more about who and what are killing these junkies. Let's leave the speculation concerning motives to a later date."

"But the motive may point us in the right direction and lead us to the top man," I argued. He hadn't laughed at me, but he wasn't buying my conclusions, either. I felt like I'd been patted on the head and told to go play with my dolls. Ranger's face flashed in my mind. He'd have believed me!

"OK, Steph, but let's do this a step at a time." Pax stood and faced the rest of the guys, effectively dismissing me.

"Alright, team. Let's get back to work. Steph, I want you to work with the lab and determine exactly what is killing these people and how. Men, you need to step up your game and find both the suppliers and pushers of this Sudden Death drug. We have a limited amount of time to prove that we can wrap up this case. So, push, people… push yourselves and anyone else involved in this case. And, hey, let's be careful out there."

0o0o0o0o

"I really appreciate you helping me with this, Brad. I know it isn't part of your regular duties, but you're a genius when it comes to computers." Yeah, I was buttering him up, but I really needed his help.

"Anything for you, Steph, and your donuts," Brad grinned, as he popped another donut hole into his mouth.

A man after my own heart. "Like I said, I'm looking for anything out of the ordinary, a drop or a spike in any of the available statistics in the key areas."

Brad nodded and picked up an apple cruller while he typed one-handed on his keyboard.

On a hunch, I decided to go to my IT guy again, armed with a box of pastries, and ask if he could do a data search for some specific regional statistics. We'd been discussing possibilities for over an hour now.

He punched up a new screen, studied it and punched up another one. "Some of the more common datasets I can search deal with births and deaths, emigration, basic demographics, employment stats, income levels, pregnancy rates, crime stats. There's tons of 'em. Can you narrow it down a bit?"

I'd been giving this a lot of thought. "Okay, try this: compare the low income areas to the rest of the city based on ethnicity numbers." I looked over his shoulder at the screen list of the various available statistics. "Then try overall birth rates, pregnancy rates… and death rates… and can you break them out by age groups?"

Brad blew out a big breath, spewing donut crumbs all over his keyboard. "That's going to take a while. Come back at the end of the week and I'll try to have something ready for you," he said. Smiling up at me, he ended with, "And I really liked those Boston Creams you brought last time."

I left his office feeling pretty pleased with myself. I just hoped Pete didn't hear about it, because I knew he wouldn't like me disobeying his instructions to concentrate only on the composition of the deadly drugs. But I knew there was something to the minority angle and I just couldn't ignore it.

My next stop was the DEA lab. The lab techs had been given samples of the drugs Rodriguez had on him when he was arrested. The techs also had the remnants of the drug stashes that belonged to the junkies that had died in the last Sudden Death die-off several months ago.

The lab was in the basement; it smelled like chemicals and was filled with weird-looking machines that beeped and whirred. But the lab tech assigned to our case was a hip woman of color who shared my love of sexy shoes.

I walked into the lab and found Marion hunched over a microscope. "Morning, Marion. I love those shoes. Are they Jimmy Choo or Casadei?" Marion had a shoe collection to die for. She only wore each pair a limited number of times before she 'retired' them. We were the same size, but I hadn't been able to get her to give me any of her hand me downs yet.

"Neither, sister. These red hot babies are none other than Carlos'." My mouth dropped open. Shoes by Carlos Santana were hot and one of the 'in' shoes right now. Plus, they were named Carlos, my favorite man's name. _Oh, Ranger…_

I pushed thoughts of my man to the back of my brain and concentrated on today's task. "You have to put those shoes in my Christmas stocking, okay?" I sidled up to her and pushed the large Tryst coffee cup across the counter toward her.

Marion gave a little scream of joy and lunged for the coffee. Removing the seal, she brought the cup up to her nose and inhaled deeply. "Ahhh, Café Cubano. My favorite. You're a lifesaver, Steph. And now, I suppose you want your test results?"

Carlos shoes and Cuban coffee. Everything reminded me of Ranger. I sighed. "Are they ready?"

She nodded. "Most of them. I'm still running some tests on one of the substances. I haven't been able to pin it down and it isn't in any of the databases."

"Show me what you've got."

"Well, the drugs your pusher had on him when he was arrested are the typical garden variety heroin, cocaine, meth and marijuana. Nothing unusual in the additives or contaminants either. I traced most of the drugs to South America, except for the meth. That came from Mexico."

She unlocked a cabinet that was filled with dozens of plastic evidence trays. She pulled out one tray and held up a little white baggie of brown crystals. "Now, the stuff from the addicts is a little different. I tested sample after sample and ninety-five percent of it contained the same elusive substance that I haven't been able to identify. Whatever it is it's highly toxic."

Marion held up a small rectangle of thin glass. I remembered using those in biology class to look at spit samples under a microscope. She explained, "I know the substance is organic, not synthetic. I've just begun to run tests on it, but my best guess right now is that it's some kind of alkaloid or possibly a polyketide."

"You lost me, Marion."

"I'm not a mycologist, but I'd say you're dealing with some kind of spore."

"In plain English, please?"

"Fungus, is that plain enough?"

"Fungus… like Athlete's Foot?"

"Well, in this case, like mushrooms, or more appropriately the spore or 'seed' of a mushroom. This toxin I found with the drugs could have been put there intentionally or it could be entirely accidental. I can't tell. If the equipment used to process the drugs was contaminated…" Marion shrugged her shoulders as her voice trailed off.

We talked a while longer as Marion explained fungal spores and how they might have contaminated the drugs. She said these fungi reproduced through spores and if conditions were right, say the processing facility was fairly primitive and in a moist tropical area, they could produce the toxic spores every few months contaminating the equipment, which would explain the cyclical nature of the Sudden Death episodes.

I blew out a deep breath. I was hoping for a smoking gun that would lead us to the top man, but now I only had more questions.

0o0o0o0o0o

Brad called me Wednesday and said he'd found something interesting he wanted to show me. I arrived at his office right at lunchtime, bringing a couple deli orders of hot pastrami sandwiches with slaw and fries. While we dug into lunch, I asked Brad to tell me what he found.

"You said you were looking for a spike or a drop in a variety of stats in Trenton's low income neighborhoods compared to the other parts of the city, right?"

I nodded, my mouth full of spicy mustard and pastrami.

Brad launched into his findings. "Well, I don't know if this is what you're looking for, but… there's been a slow decline in birth rates in Trenton's Hispanic areas over the last eight or nine years, but _most noticeable_ is the teen pregnancy rate." He handed me a printout of the stats he was showing me on his computer screen, including a map of Trenton that was color-coded by neighborhoods.

Pointing to the neighborhood in blue, he told me, "Fifteen years ago, this predominantly Hispanic area of Trenton had more than _eight times_ the number of teen pregnancies than this mainly Caucasian area did," pointing to the larger green area. "Today, this same blue area now has a _lower_ pregnancy rate than any other section of Trenton. I did some calling around and there hasn't been any bigger public push or social program to reduce the teen pregnancy rate in the lower income areas than the high-income areas."

"So, you're saying that kind of a drop is significant?"

"Hell yes. The first thing I did was check the demographics and nothing else of significance has changed. Only the teen pregnancy rate. And the rate also dropped in this area," he pointed to a purple colored area, "where the African-American population comprises sixty-eight percent of the total."

"Okay… What could cause such a big drop in a few areas, but not in others?" I asked.

"I'm the wrong dude to ask. You need to talk to a social worker or a doctor."

Well, this at least gave me something to pursue. I needed to find someone who was familiar with this topic and ask a bunch of questions.

0o0o0oo0o

I bolted upright in bed. Something had woken me. Then it came back to me. I'd been dreaming of Marion and her shoes. In my dream she was wearing the red Carlos Santana heels and dancing with Ranger down the aisles of her lab. While that bothered me, it wasn't what woke me. It was the visual of her lab.

The other day, she showed me the individual trays containing all the drug-related items that had been confiscated from the dead drug addicts' residences. The police had taken anything that could be construed as a drug, including prescription and 'over the counter' medications, and even vitamins.

In over half of the trays there was a white bottle of vitamins. My spidey sense was tingling. I could barely contain my excitement.

I found myself waiting outside the lab door for Marion to show up first thing that morning. I could hear the click click of her heels as she strode briskly down the quiet hallway.

Just as she turned the corner, I verbally attacked her. "It's about time you got here. Do you always arrive so late? And, _by the way_, those leopard-skin heels look smokin' hot on you."

She pursed her lips and gave me an up and down look. "It's 6:30, sister. Even the birds aren't up yet. Get off my case. And, by the way, _I know_." She unlocked the lab and sashayed inside.

I followed on her 'smokin' hot' heels and dashed over to the cabinet with the evidence trays. "C'mon, hurry up. Unlock this," I barked.

Marion gave me an amused look. "You're really fired up this morning, aren't you? What's the magic word?"

I rolled my eyes, but acquiesced. "Pleeeeeze," I begged, giving her a lop-sided grin.

She took her sweet time opening up the cabinet. I grabbed the first tray and set it on the counter. It sported the iconic little bags of white powder and brown crystals, another baggie of assorted pills, a bottle of aspirin and a bottle of vitamins.

Picking up the vitamins, I read the label. A lot of vitamins today hype the fact they are designed for 'women over 50' or have added ingredients to promote 'men's health.'

According to the label on this bottle, the marketing hype for these vitamins was that they were designed for the 'young hip Hispanic,' of all things. Reading down the list of ingredients, they seemed to contain all the standard vitamins plus a few ingredients with Spanish sounding names. The bottle listed the maker's name, Barnes & Nobel Pharmaceuticals, Inc. More research for me to do.

I checked the rest of the trays. Like I remembered, nearly half the trays had the same bottle of vitamins, except some of them had slightly different labels. About ten percent of them were marketed as promoting the health of 'proud Black youth.'

Several of the trays also had plastic bottles of aspirin made by the same drug company, Barnes & Nobel. Studying each bottle, I noticed the seam that ran the length of the bottle was a faint red, which I thought was odd. I jotted down the lot numbers and the 'special' ingredients, if any. Then a thought occurred to me.

"Marion, does your computer have each of the evidence trays linked to the individual addict's information?" I was realizing how much investigative work was now dependent on computerized data.

"Sure, hon. It's all in there. What do you need?" Marion turned on her computer and waited for it to boot up.

"Can you print out the basic information for each addict? I'm looking for age, gender, ethnicity, children, address and then include whether their trays include any OTC medications and supplements," I requested, holding up the vitamin bottle.

Rolling her eyes, she said sarcastically, "You don't want much, do you? Gimme a minute."

As soon as the paper rolled out of the printer, I grabbed it and thanked Marion for her help. Crossing over to the parking garage, I slid into my Camry and then pored over the printout.

Those trays with the Barnes & Nobel vitamin bottles belonged to Hispanic or African American youth, under the age of thirty, both male and female. None of them had children listed. The majority of the other trays belonged to older addicts over thirty years of age and quite a few had children, though most of their kids were living with other family members or were in the custody of Child Protective Services. Drugs took their toll even on the innocent.

_So where did they get their vitamins?_ I drove to the nearest drugstore. Looking in the vitamin aisle, I saw tons of different brands of vitamins. Concentrating on one-a-day vitamins made by Barnes & Nobel, I found one that was similar to the bottles in the evidence trays, but the label was generic — no marketing hype to a particular ethnic or age group — just one-a-day vitamins. These white bottles had no colored seam. I checked the Barnes & Nobel aspirin bottles, too. Again, the only thing different was no red seam. I needed to check more samples.

I called Pax. "I'm going to Trenton for the day to follow up on a lead. I'll be back in the office tomorrow."

Throwing me for a loop, he replied, "I'll go with you. I need to get out of the office for awhile and I've been wanting to watch you in action." I could hear his grin through the phone. "Pick me up outside the office in ten minutes." He disconnected, effectively stopping me from talking him out of accompanying me on what might be a wild goose chase.


	25. Chapter 25 When Petey Met Joey

**Chapter 25—When Petey Met Joey**

_Lead me, follow me, or get the hell out of my way._

_General George S. Patton_

Stephanie's POV

Pax was waiting for me on the sidewalk. He jumped into the passenger seat of my Camry as soon as I pulled up to the curb. "So, why are we going to Trenton on the spur of the moment? Whadja find out?"

Rolling my eyes, I pulled out into traffic and headed toward the Capitol Beltway. Did I really want to tell my 'boss' that I was looking for a plastic vitamin bottle with an odd red seam?

I deflected by telling him if he didn't lose the suit jacket and tie, no one in the Burg would give him the time of day. Surprisingly, he complied. I looked him over and noticed he was wearing cuff links. Who wears cufflinks these days? He followed my gaze and laughed. Removing them, he rolled up his sleeves a couple times and asked, "How's that? Am I _Burg_ enough now?"

"Much betta," I proclaimed. "See, you gotta lose the 'Ahhs' though."

"Not gonna happen, Angel Eyes. I like my Rs just fine. Back to your case lead…" he began.

_Angel Eyes?_ Procrastinating, I asked, "How's your mother doing after her surgery?"

Pax stared at me a full minute before responding, "She's just fine. Now about this lead…"

Pax didn't distract easily, so I told him the truth, well, part of it. "It's something I noticed when I was in Marion's lab and she was reporting on the drug contaminants. It may be nothing, but I want to check it out."

"Go on…" he motioned me with his hand to continue talking.

I sighed. I was so used to people dismissing my hunches, I was leery about confiding in Pax until I was able to confirm or rule out this particular one, but it was clear Pax wasn't going to let it slide.

"A majority of the evidence trays contained not only the usual drugs, but the agents also confiscated the addicts' bottles of vitamins." Pax just stared at me, not saying a word. "Well… all the bottles were from the same company." Again, Pax's gaze never wavered. I was going to have to tell him everything, which wasn't much, but could jeopardize his faith in me.

"I think the deadly drugs and the vitamins are connected. I don't know how yet, but something tells me there's a correlation between the two."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Pax's head give a slight shake, as if trying to wrap his brain around my leap of logic.

"I'll give you the benefit of the doubt on that one. Mainly, I just want to see how you operate one of your crazy hunches. You have an unorthodox style, Plum, but you seem to make it work. I've been checking up on you."

Pax's mouth drew up into a smirk as he brought up an issue I'd rather he'd never known about. "Just how many cars _have_ you blown up?"

I shot him a withering look. "_I_ haven't blown up _any_ cars. It's not my fault if a few cars I drove ended up getting a little _dented_."

"Dented? The way I heard it was you had over a dozen cars get burned, bombed, bashed and shot, and even had a garbage truck land on one of your exploding cars."

"That wasn't my car. That was… a loaner." Thinking about the Porsche Boxster that got smushed in front of my eyes made me think of Ranger, which made me feel sad and good at the same time. While I missed him terribly and worried about him constantly, I could hear his 'Proud of you, Babe' even now. He would encourage me to follow my instincts so that was what I was going to do.

Pax turned sideways in his seat and stared at me, making me very uncomfortable. "A loaner from _Ranger Mañoso?_" he asked.

Slowly, I nodded. How did he know about Ranger? I didn't think I wanted to talk about Ranger with Pax. However, his next words floored me.

"My sympathies, Stephanie. I know you and Ranger had a special relationship."

My mouth dropped open. How did he know about Ranger and me? And then to call what we had over the last few years a relationship? That was a shocker. Even I couldn't define what we were to each other the last few years. Curiosity got the better of me. "Do you know Ranger?"

"Yeah, I knew Ranger." Past tense. I got that queasy feeling in my stomach whenever anyone used the past tense referring to Ranger.

"How? When?" I asked.

Pax exhaled deeply. "I worked several operations with him, and with his Rangers, about eight years ago. I was assigned to his unit as the aquatic specialist."

_Aquatic specialist?_ Did that mean…? "You were a Navy SEAL?" I exclaimed. His head moved up a millimeter. I took that as a yes. "What happened?"

He was silent for several minutes and as much as I wanted to quiz him, I'd learned from Ranger that sometimes a man just needed some 'zone' time. Finally, he spoke. "My last mission was the one that sunk me, literally. I was making a long dive and an explosion knocked me unconscious. I started to sink." He gave a slight snort.

"That would have been it for me if it hadn't been for Ranger. Without any diving gear, he dove in, swam way beyond his limit and caught me before I'd sunk too deep and then hauled me back to the surface. He kept both of us afloat until his unit could reach us. The mission had to be aborted and my injuries were too severe to continue… in the field, so I was 'retired' and eventually joined DEA."

Wow, Pax used to work with Ranger. I didn't see that coming. And he was a SEAL. "You didn't happen to give him your SEALS cap, did you?" I asked.

He looked surprised. "How'd you know about the hat?"

"I know he has such a hat and that it means a lot to him."

Pax turned and looked out the side window, making it hard to hear him. "A mutual friend gave Ranger that hat. _Max_. He was my best friend. Max was attached to Ranger's unit whenever they needed his skills. He and Ranger had each other's back on several missions. Max gave Ranger his cap just before his last mission."

Pax was silent for a minute, staring out the window. When he spoke again, his voice was slightly hoarse. "The hat was his way of honoring Ranger for going above and beyond, though in Special Forces there really is no such thing." Pax finally turned and looked at me. "I was Max's replacement on Ranger's squad after he… was killed."

I took in the agonized expression on his face and had to turn my attention back to the road or I'd start crying. Not knowing what else to say, I said softly, "I'm sorry you lost your friend." Thoughts of, 'Thank you for your service; sorry so many of you gave your lives for us' skittered through my mind. Nothing seemed adequate. I changed the subject. "You miss it, don't you?"

Another slight nod. "Big time. It gets in your blood and nothing's ever the same. Ranger was lucky. He got to do what he loved to the very end."

Tears finally filled my eyes and driving became a little tricky for a while. I believed Ranger was still alive, but hearing Pax say what he did really touched me. I felt sad for Pax and, for the first time, felt a tiny bit of doubt about Ranger. I didn't think this was the time to tell my boss that I believed Ranger was alive.

We drove in silence for the next hour, and then Pax started talking about the latest developments on Operation Sudden Death II. I told him what I'd learned about the fungal spores from Marion. We reviewed the known facts about the case and ran different scenarios past each other. It was all very professional and businesslike.

The first thing I did when we got to Trenton was go into a drugstore and check out the vitamin aisle, with Pax silently following me. I found the Barnes & Nobel brand of one-a-day vitamins—no ethnic hype and no red seam. I tried several other stores with the same result.

I drove to the predominantly Hispanic neighborhood Brad had mentioned and found another drugstore. They too carried the Barnes & Nobel brand, but the vitamin label was generic and the bottle had no red seam. I talked to the pharmacist and asked what other places local residents might get these vitamins from and he suggested I try the free clinic on 3rd Street.

By now it was nearly one o'clock and my stomach was growling. My day had started earlier than usual and I'd been so intent on my goal, I'd skipped breakfast. After listening to my stomach rumble for the past half hour, Pax suggested we stop for lunch.

"What's your favorite haunt here? My treat," Pax offered.

I was jonesing for a meatball sub, so I took him to Pino's.

It was the end of lunch hour and I'd hoped we wouldn't run into anyone I knew, but no such luck. As we walked in the door, Eddie, Joe and a couple other police officers were just paying their tab. I hadn't seen Joe since the day of Ranger's 'funeral' when I slugged him.

Eddie turned around and gave me a big smile as I walked in. "What's a hotshot DC investigator doing frequenting a dive like Pino's." He gave me a bear hug while, behind the counter, Mr. Pino _harrumphed_ about the 'dive' comment.

I shot a smile at Mr. Pino over Eddie's shoulder and replied, "Why Eddie, Pino's is a legend in its own time. I was craving a meatball sub and only Pino's would do, so I drove _all the way_ from DC just to get one." Mr. Pino gave me the thumb's up while ringing up the next order.

All pleasantries stopped when Joe stepped into my line of vision and said snidely, "Watch out, Eddie. She's been known to slug a guy in the stomach for getting too close."

"Steph only punches a guy when she has a reason and knowing you, she had a really good one, Joe," Eddie countered. He released me and turned to Pax, sticking out his hand. "I'm Eddie Gazarra, I was Steph's _first_. She _punched me_ in the stomach when we were five. I deserved it. I tried to swipe her piece of pineapple upside down cake. No one gets between Stephanie and cake." Eddie shot me a grin.

"Good to know, Eddie. I've seen her pack away the donuts. I'll be sure not to fight her for the last jelly-filled. I'm Pete Paxton. Stephanie and I are colleagues at the DEA."

Joe phfffted loudly. "Colleagues? Is _that_ what they call it in DC?" With his hands down low in front of him, he made a rude gesture by thrusting his index finger into the pocket created by loosely fisting his other hand.

Pax's back stiffened and he met Joe head on. "_Excuse me_? What are you implying?"

Giving Pax a sneering look, Joe ignored his comment and looked down his nose at me. "Didn't take you long to replace Mañoso in your bed, did it, Cupcake?" Joe said, scornfully.

I went from mildly pissed to rhino rage in 1.3 seconds flat. Lunging at Joe, I was caught by Eddie, who quickly stepped in between us and blocked my charge, while Pax slammed Joe into the wall. Pax thrust his forearm across Joe's neck and pinned his right arm above his head. The cops around us all stepped forward, ready to intervene if necessary.

His voice low and slow, Pax said, "You will apologize to Ms. Plum and you will do it with due deference and respect."

Joe's bravado as he tried to shove Pax away was actually pathetic. He wasn't having much luck verbally or physically. Size-wise, the two men looked evenly matched, but Pax had got the drop on Joe and had the leverage as he leaned in and held Joe firmly against the wall. I guess Joe was above giving a man a knee to the crotch. Joe looked to his buddies for help, but they just stared stonily at Joe. He'd crossed the line.

It took several minutes for Joe to realize he had no option but to comply. I could see him trying to swallow, but Pax wasn't letting up on the pressure to his throat.

Joe let out a garbled "Sorry," but Pax didn't let him off that easily.

"You can do better than that," Pax demanded.

Glaring at me Joe finally mumbled through gritted teeth, "I'm sorry, Steph." Pax leaned a bit harder into Joe's chest and neck. Joe spat out, "I shouldn't have said that. That was uncalled for."

He glanced at Pax and tilted his head. Pax looked back at me and I nodded. Slowly, Pax backed off. Joe shook his shoulders and rubbed his neck. He gave me one last look. It was unreadable, but it didn't give me a warm fuzzy feeling.

Joe pulled himself up to his full height and tried to swagger out the door, but he did it amongst the snickers and snide comments of Pino's patrons.

Eddie told me, "I'm really sorry about that, Steph. Joe's being a real jerk. He's always been an arrogant SOB, but ever since you dumped him he's been a pure ass. Put it behind you." He gave me another hug. "It's really nice to see you again. Give me a call sometime, okay? Shirley and the kids would love to see you."

I hugged him back and nodded. I'd call Eddie at work to shoot the breeze, but there was no way I was getting near his brood of little hellions.

Pax escorted me over to a corner table and helped me in. I noticed he sat in the back booth facing the door. Someone else I knew always did that, too.

We ordered meatball subs and fries and while we waited for our order to come I said, "Thank you for the thing with Joe. If I'd gotten a hold of him, it wouldn't have been pretty. But why did you get so upset? This was about me, not about you."

"He was impugning my character, too."

Chuckling, I joked, "Oh, so being linked with me would be a blemish on your reputation? Maybe I should sit at another table so people don't see us together?" I moved to get up.

Pax grabbed my hand and pulled me back down. "It would be an honor to be 'linked' with you, but I didn't think you were ready yet." Looking into my eyes, he kissed the tips of my fingers before releasing my hand. "Stephanie, I…"

_Omigod, no!_ "Pax, don't say anything… _please_," I pleaded, keeping my voice low. I pulled both my hands into my lap and looked around the diner. Thankfully, no one was looking our way.

It looked like I had no option except to come clean. In a low voice, I explained, "You're right. I'm not ready for another relationship because I'm still in one with Ranger. You'll probably think I'm crazy, but I believe he's still alive. Call it a hunch; I call it my 'spidey sense,' but… _I know he's out there_. He just needs help in getting back to me." I exhaled, unaware I'd been holding my breath.

Pax was silent for a couple of minutes, studying me before he spoke. "If it was anyone else but Ranger, I'd definitely think you were nuts, but if anyone could survive the odds, he'd be the one."

I was shocked… and pleased. Someone who didn't try to talk me out of what I knew to be true. Any doubt I'd had about Ranger disappeared.

"Thank you… for understanding," I said, relieved to have that awkwardness behind us.

Just then, our waitress set our plates down in front of us and all talk stopped for a few minutes as we dug in. When we'd got several bites of food into our stomachs, conversation started back up, but we kept the discussion to food, Trenton and our favorite sports teams – anything but personal relationships.

We finished our lunch and I insisted on paying for mine separately, but when I went to the counter, Mr. Pino refused to take my money. "Not today," he said. "It's on the house." Joe's temper had an upside, it seemed.

Pax and I piled back in my Camry and I handed him the printout Marion had made for me. "Look at the demographics of the junkies who were using the Barnes & Nobel vitamins and then compare them to those who didn't have any vitamins in their trays."

Pax went back and forth between the pages studying the data. "Okay, I see the correlation. What's your conclusion?"

I was hoping he would 'get it' right away. Maybe he did, but he wanted to hear me voice it. Then again, he hadn't believed me before, so why would he now?

"I told you weeks ago I thought someone was poisoning minorities through drugs. Well, I also think they are doing something similar using vitamins and maybe other types of supplements or medications. Did you notice that none of the drug addicts with the bottles of vitamins had any children?"

"So, from that, you're concluding…?"

"I think the toxin not only kills but sterilizes the user as well."

"When you said something about genocide, you were serious?"

I nodded. And then waited for him to laugh or tell me I was fired. Anything but what he said next.

"Let's go with it. Let's see where it takes us. Who am I to discount your spidey sense?"

It was like getting a 'proud of you, Babe.' I sported an ear-to-ear grin as I pulled into the parking lot of the free clinic the pharmacist had recommended. It was in an old renovated gas station. With gas prices so high and job availability so low, I guess there was little demand for gasoline in this neighborhood, but high demand for free medical care.

As soon as we entered the door, I was assailed by the wails of five crying children being hushed by their harried mothers, both Hispanic looking. I stepped over to the reception window where a pleasant looking woman dressed in scrubs greeted me. "How may I help you?"

The woman looked familiar. I asked, "You aren't Violet Hammond's older sister, are you?"

She took a close look at me and smiled, "Stephanie Plum?" I nodded. "I'm Ruby Hammond, well, Miller now." She held up her left hand with the wedding ring. "I went to school with your sister, Valerie. How is she?"

"Val's doing great. She 's back in town, remarried and has four girls now. You should give her a call. She'd love to hear from you."

I switched subjects, hoping she wouldn't question my motives too closely or ask about the tall blond man standing off to the side of me. "I don't remember seeing this clinic before. How long has it been open?"

Ruby responded, "We've been in business for about ten years. We operate under a private grant. I'd just finished my RN when it opened and I've been working here ever since."

"What kind of services do you provide?"

"Our doctors are in general practice, but we mostly provide pediatric care and OB-Gyn services… that's what the community needs."

Glancing around at all the empty chairs, I asked, "Is this a busy or a slow day for you?"

"Well, this is average for us lately, but when we started the clinic ten years ago, the waiting room used to be filled to the brim with families."

"Why the drop in clients?"

She shrugged, "I guess the young people growing up nowadays would rather spend their money on new cars, new clothes and expensive gadgets rather than have children," she sighed. "Would you like to see a doctor, Stephanie?"

I shook my head. "I only have a few more questions, Ruby. Do you dispense any medications from here? Or over the counter stuff like aspirin, or even vitamins?"

Ruby looked surprised at my inquiry, but she answered promptly. "As a matter of fact, we do." She stood up and walked out of her cubicle for a minute, returning with several white plastic bottles.

"Other than vaccinations like flu shots, we don't give out prescription drugs, but we do provide over the counter items. We operate under a grant from Barnes & Nobel Pharmaceuticals and they've always provided us with several OTC items like aspirin and decongestant. Most of our clientele are from lower income families and to ensure the children especially are getting the proper nutrition, Barnes & Nobel insists our regular customers take their one-a-day vitamins. They're free so most families welcome it. I'm proud to say, the children who've grown up under our care are some of the healthiest around."

She handed me a bottle and sure enough, it was the same type that was in the evidence trays. The label proclaimed them to be for the 'young hip Hispanic' and there was a red seam running down the side of the bottle. I felt a shock of excitement surge through me. This could be my smoking gun.

"May I take this with me? And also the aspirin? My Grandma's senior center is trying to start its own free clinic and I'd like to show them what other community clinics are doing," I lied with only a twinge of guilt. "Do you get these directly from Barnes & Nobel?"

Ruby nodded, "Yes, we get a regular shipment from them every four months or so. And sometimes, they ask us to test other drugs for them as well. I guess you might say we're a research facility as well as a free medical clinic."

Saying the appropriate goodbyes, I tucked the bottles of aspirin and vitamins in my handbag and Pax and I walked back out to the parking lot. On our way out of Trenton, we stopped by a convenience store and I got a supply of TastyKakes; Pax got a couple bottles of water and a Snickers bar. At least he wasn't a health freak.

I started the drive back to DC on a high note. With luck, I'd make it back in time to hand these bottles over to Marion for testing. I had a hunch about what she'd find!

Pax was quiet for the first part of the trip back to DC. I was used to quiet men, but he was also my boss and today had been a highly unusual one. I couldn't help wondering what he was thinking.

"Well, what do you think of my unorthodox investigating style now?" I asked. "Was it worth a day in the field?"

"For a man like me, a day in the field is always worth it. The jury's still out on your unusual mode of operation." He shot me a grin. "You do come up with some interesting ideas, though. Ranger said you were always good for a laugh."

I snapped my head around and stared at him. "_What did you say? Ranger told you about me?_ _When? Where?_" I cried.

Another grin. "It was several years ago. We ran into each other in DC. I'd just been promoted to lead agent for the DEA and Ranger was just getting his security business up and running."

"He told you I was _good for a laugh_?" I said, my hackles rising, not liking the implication.

"I assure you, Stephanie, he meant it in a very good way. Laughter is a hard commodity to come by in our line of work." Pax leaned over and grabbed the bottles of water from the convenience store bag. He handed me one and took a long swig from his before continuing.

"He didn't mention you by name, but he was telling me about this new bounty hunter in Trenton. A friend of his had asked him to teach her the ropes and he'd become intrigued with her. When he told me about lending her his brand new Boxster and what happened to it, he was laughing so hard I knew something was up… that his relationship with her," he looked at me meaningfully, "_with you_, was more than just the professional courtesy of helping out a rookie." He took another sip and glanced over at me.

I was probably beet red, remembering the charred Porsche pancake that used to be Ranger's exorbitantly expensive car. I also remembered his reaction, "Cars are easy to come by, Babe. People are harder to replace." And then he asked me if I was okay. I looked over at Pax, "So that's how you knew Ranger had lent me his car?"

He nodded.

I was stunned with this new revelation. "That was several years ago. We were just working partners back then. Well, _he_ helped me out a lot. I don't think I gave him anything but headaches in return."

Pax shook his head. "Ranger never let himself get attached to any of the women in his life, but I could tell this woman had got under his skin. He called her 'his Eliza' and I assumed that was her name. That was the last time I saw Ranger." He looked away and was silent for a while. I desperately wanted to ask him questions, but I bit my tongue and waited for him to go on.

"When Tank put you on the first Sudden Death team, I did some research on you and realized Ranger had been talking about none other than the Bombshell Bounty Hunter – about you. I was eager to meet you, the woman who could melt Ranger's heart. And you were everything I'd expected and then some." He shot me a quick look and then looked down at the water bottle in his hands, suddenly finding the label intensely interesting. But he kept talking.

"I decided not to tell you about my history with Ranger. I thought it would only serve to muddle our professional relationship. Then, when Ranger didn't make it back and it didn't look like he would, I didn't know what to say to you. I wanted to tell you about Ranger and me, but by then, I realized…" His voice trailed off.

"What? You realized what?" I asked.

Pax shook his head and then changed the subject. "We haven't had a chance to talk about what you want to do with these vitamins. I'm assuming you want to stop by the lab as soon as we arrive in DC and give these samples to Marion for testing?"

I nodded.

"And I'm assuming you think she'll find the same toxin in the vitamins that she found in the heroin?"

Again, I nodded.

"If you're right, that means this reaches so much farther than killing off drug addicts. Have you found any evidence that the vitamins are killing people?"

"No, but it just seems strange that so many drug addicts in their child-bearing years don't have any children. They usually aren't too careful about using protection, but the female addicts didn't even have a history of miscarriages or abortions."

With his next statement, I knew I'd found an ally. "I'll start looking into Barnes & Nobel as soon as we get back."

0o0o0o0o0o0o

That evening, I was restless. Talking with Pax about Ranger made me realize no one was going to find him unless I took a more direct initiative. I had to 'lead the way' like a good Ranger does.

I rummaged around in my closet until I found the business card in my winter coat pocket. When I called the number on the card, I got no recording, just the beep. I took a deep breath and left a message.

"This is Stephanie Plum. I need your help to organize a mission to find and bring Ranger Mañoso home. Please call me ASAP."


	26. Chapter 26 New Beginnings

**Chapter 26—New Beginnings**

_Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end. ~ Seneca_

Ranger's/Marc's POV

The rest of the trip north with Illiana was mostly uneventful, except for a small altercation at a gas station in Blythe just across the Arizona-California border. I didn't think anything of it, until Illiana pointed out how unusual my actions were.

We'd stopped for gas and a pit stop. I'd just walked around the corner after a trip to the restroom and saw three rough looking gang bangers harassing Illiana as she tried to get into the Subaru.

Striding quickly toward them, I saw one of the punks grab Illiana by her hair. In a flash, I seized him by the back of his filthy leather jacket and yanked him off his feet. One of his 'friends' came to his rescue and I threw the guy I was dangling into him, knocking them both to the ground. The third guy whipped open a switchblade and came at me. Without thinking, I kicked out with my foot disarming him and followed up by twisting his arm high on his back until it snapped. He went down on his knees, howling in pain and cradling his arm. The other two guys rushed me, one swinging a long thick chain and the other sporting another switchblade. A few seconds later, both men went sailing through the air, one slamming into the steel pillar next to the gas pump, the other man crashing head first into the pump itself. Neither man got back up.

I turned to Illiana who was shaken but unhurt. She clung to me trembling until one of the men started to groan and move. The store manager stuck his head out the door, his phone to his ear, and gave me a thumbs up and waved me on. We loaded up and went on our way with me driving until Illiana could calm down.

As we continued to drive west, Illiana swiveled in her seat to confront me. "Marco, what just happened back there?" she cried, with a shaky voice.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that, Illiana," I said. "But it's over and neither of us were hurt."

"I know it's over, but what I can't comprehend is _how it got over_. You were incredible! I've never seen anyone move that fast. You were like the superheroes in the movies. There were _three_ of them and only one of you and they were really tough big guys with knives and chains. I was afraid they were going to kill you, but they didn't even land a single blow on you." She leaned against the passenger door and stared at me. "_Who are you?_"

"I wish I knew," I replied, tiredly. Whatever I'd done back there at the gas station I'd done instinctively, without thinking. It didn't even register to me that it was unusual. That meant those fighting actions were second nature to me, something I'd been well trained to do and probably did often. Was I a soldier or a killer? Or both?

We continued west until we got to the outskirts of Los Angeles and then proceeded north on Interstate 5, traveling up the middle of California. The center part of the state was pleasantly green and pastoral with many small towns along the way. We stopped late afternoon for dinner at a little town just outside of Santa Clarita and decided to spend the night. We'd reach San Francisco tomorrow.

We had to go to a second motel, because the first motel only had one room available. The room had two beds, and Illiana was fine with it, but I knew there would be too much temptation for me sleeping in the same room with her.

I'd been trying to keep an emotional distance from her, but she wanted more and that was making it hard on me. I'd been without female companionship for many months now and it was taking its toll on me. Illiana was a beautiful woman and I found her to be both intelligent and intriguing. I was definitely attracted to her and she let it be known, on more than one occasion, she wouldn't mind a more intimate relationship with me. I had to admit it was physically tempting, but something held me back. It just didn't feel right.

Spending that one night with Nevi somehow seemed different. While I was fond of Nevi, I knew there was no danger of a long-term relationship. It was a single night and the sexual instruction of their young people was a deeply ingrained part of the Ye'kuana culture. When Juan asked me to be his daughter's teacher, I knew he was bestowing a great honor on me and I owed him and the tribe my life.

Sleeping with Illiana would be an entirely different thing. Until I figured out more about my past and what I'd left behind, I couldn't afford any entanglements.

Much to my aggravation, Illiana 'hovered' over me during the last two days of our trip. She constantly touched me, either thanking me for rescuing her or saying she was worried about me after my desert ordeal.

As for her worrying about me, I knew I still looked bad, but I tried not to let her see how weak I was. I was able to gain much of my strength back and put back on the weight I'd lost during my solitary trek across the desert. Early in the morning, before we got in the car, I exercised in my motel room, trying to maintain my muscle mass and strength. While living with the Ye'kuana, each day was a workout, but now I missed the physical exertion. It felt natural to work out in the morning.

I'd reluctantly agreed to temporarily stay with Illiana in her home when we arrived in San Francisco Friday night. I had no money, no job and no identification. As my 'sponsor,' Illiana said she'd find me work in her grandfather's company and in the meantime, (she said) I'd have a safe place to stay and I could begin my search for my identity.

Her home turned out to be a multi-colored Victorian-style row house Illiana affectionately referred to as a 'painted lady.' It was a three-story structure with the garage occupying most of the ground floor. The living room, kitchen and dining room and a half-bathroom comprised the second floor, and three bedrooms and two bathrooms filled the third floor. Illiana was insistent I stay in one of the guest rooms, but I opted for the small 'servant' quarters on the ground floor next to the garage. It had everything I needed and was isolated with ready access to the outside.

On Saturday, Illiana took me shopping. I found it to be a humiliating experience to have a woman pick out and pay for my clothes, but she said I would need several changes of work clothes when I started my job on Monday. I tried, without success, to tell myself Illiana buying my clothes was no different than Nevi and Yada making my clothes for me. I added a razor and some unscented deodorant, soap and shampoo to the purchases. Everything Illiana had was extremely feminine and fragrant. On her, it smelled nice, but I wasn't too keen on using those same products on myself. She also convinced me to get my hair cut, saying it would change my appearance in case anyone was looking for the long-haired person who blew up the uranium mine.

I'd been keeping track of the money she was spending on me and as soon as I could, I would pay her back every cent.

Saturday evening, Illiana showed me her laptop and explained how it worked. I didn't tell her I knew how to operate one; until I started I didn't know I did. The only clue I had to my identity was the name I'd so readily chosen for myself. The name seemed familiar; maybe it was my true name or the name of someone I knew.

I typed in 'Marc Pardo' and did a simple search, finding numerous people with that name. If it was my name, I could eliminate most of them through clues regarding their age, appearance (from posted photographs), and current postings during the time I was in Venezuela. There were several men by that name who lived in other countries, but again I was able to discount them because of their age or pictures. If Marc Pardo wasn't me but someone I knew, nothing I found yet through my computer searches rang a bell with me.

It was obvious that with specialty software and paying for certain information, I could search with more precision, but I had no money yet, so those options would have to wait for a while. Illiana suggested I look into hiring a private investigator that specialized in finding lost people. Something inside me warned against involving anyone else in my search.

On Sunday, I asked Illiana more about her family and her grandparents' pharmaceutical company. I was curious about the people I'd soon be working for.

Illiana started with her parents. "My parents were as different as day and night. Dad was tall, dark-complected and bigger than life. He was outgoing and could make friends with anyone. Mom was petite, blonde and fair-skinned. She was quiet, but had a great sense of humor. I spent my childhood traveling with my parents to various small villages in South America. I told you my father was raised in the same village you were in and that he became a doctor because of both my grandmothers' influences. My father devoted his life to treating the indigenous people of the rainforest who had no access to modern medicine. My mother served as his assistant and nurse." Illiana's face lit up with a soft smile. "They were inseparable and very much in love; I rarely heard them raise their voices to each other."

"Dad taught me about illnesses and the medicines used to treat them and from my grandmother I learned about the native plants that could be used to manufacture miraculous cures. Each day was an adventure. I loved my grandmother and was heartbroken when my mother told me she'd been killed in a battle between two rival tribes." Illiana eyes filled with tears, but she went on, "And then a few years later, while I was attending university in the States, my parents disappeared on one of their South American mercy missions. That left my grandfather as my only family."

She closed her eyes, and the tears rolled down her cheeks. She seemed to need to talk about her family and her loss. I got the feeling it was the first time she'd ever spoken any of this out loud.

"My grandfather is an intimidating man, not easy to get close to. When I was growing up, I always felt he didn't like me and avoided me whenever possible. I know he hated my dad. I thought it was because my grandfather didn't think he was good enough for his only daughter. However, he took me under his wing when I graduated from college and brought me into the family business. I was young and still recovering from the shock of losing both my parents, so I accepted my grandfather's guidance and immersed myself in a business career."

"Once I was established as upper management in my grandfather's company, I insisted on taking several trips a year to South America and continuing my grandmother's search for new medicinal finds among the native plants of the rainforest. I was surprised when Grandfather encouraged my 'research' trips and also allowed me considerable leeway in creating several community service programs sponsored by the company."

"One program that Grandfather asked me to take over was a grant program designed to establish 'low cost to free' medical clinics in disadvantaged neighborhoods across the country. It's one of my favorite projects and I'm proud that my family company is so generous in giving back to the community at large. Grandfather also supports several rainforest protection programs worldwide."

Barnes & Nobel Pharmaceuticals sounded like an interesting company to work for. Of course, I would only be working in the warehouse loading and unloading boxes. But it would provide me with a paycheck and allow me time to search for my past.

0o0o0o0o

Monday morning, Illiana and I drove into work together. Barnes & Nobel Pharmaceuticals was housed in several large modern structures grouped together in the Mission District of San Francisco. It included offices, research and development labs, a greenhouse, a manufacturing plant and a warehouse.

Illiana walked me to the Human Resources office where we met with the HR director. The director, a dapper grey-haired gentleman, took one look at me and asked to speak to Illiana alone. I stepped outside and waited in the hallway, but could hear voices being raised. Shortly, Illiana came out looking none too happy and indicated I was to go back in, but before she left she gave me instructions on how to find the warehouse where I'd be working.

The HR director was barely civil to me, but seemed somewhat mollified when he heard me speak flawless English. He expressed his extreme displeasure at hiring me without a social security number and driver's license. I couldn't really blame him, but was grateful Illiana had used her executive position with the company to convince him to overlook it. He hurriedly rushed me through the hiring process and escorted me to the door, closing it loudly behind me. It was a good thing Illiana had told me where to find the warehouse. The place was a maze of hallways and similar looking buildings.

I stepped into the warehouse manager's office and found a Dolph Lundgren look-alike: a tall, broad-shouldered older man with a blond buzz cut. He did a double take when he saw me and immediately asked me to step outside for a minute. He shut the door and I could hear him on the phone arguing with someone, but when he came out he quickly pointed me in the direction of my new supervisor and returned to his office. I didn't see him for the rest of the day.

My supervisor was a big burly red-headed Irish man named George McNally. He was a gruff man who didn't talk much, but he showed me the basics and explained the routine of moving pallets of raw materials to the manufacturing plant and then moving packaged medicines, OTC drugs and vitamins back to the warehouse. I even got my own forklift.

The first week, I received a lot of stares everywhere I went at Barnes & Nobel. My first thought was the company must not hire new people very often, but then the more buildings and offices I visited I realized I was the only other person working there, besides Illiana, that had dark skin. Not only were there no Blacks or Hispanics, I didn't even see any Asians. The place was whiter than white. That would also explain the cool reception I received from the HR director and my supervisors.

The manual labor was boring, but paid surprisingly well. Still, I owed Illiana several thousand dollars and decided to look into an evening job so I could quickly pay back all the cash she'd spent helping me get to the States.

Each night of that first week, Illiana drove me home and we shared dinner and spent the evening together. She had a lot of work to catch up on since she'd been gone longer than she'd planned. Normally, she would have hopped on a plane and been home in a few hours time instead of the weeks it took us to drive from South America to San Francisco.

I listened intently as she told me about a new international division her grandfather wanted to establish. Barnes & Nobel was currently limited to producing a select number of medicinal drugs and vitamins. According to Illiana, his new project would enable the company to branch out into the production of an innovative infant formula proven to be superior to breast milk. Barnes had decided to test market the new formula in South America and he gave Illiana the job of setting up the new division due to her familiarity with the Latin American culture.

As she discussed the problems she was having negotiating the legal and governmental issues, I could see she had a limited background in dealing with the complexities of international politics and economics. After several evenings of listening to her struggle to formulate a workable business plan, I offered some ideas that would cut through the bureaucratic red tape imposed by both the U.S. and the South American countries.

I could see I surprised her with my ideas. Actually, I surprised myself with the extent of my knowledge about international business management. Maybe it was a clue to my past?

The next few weeks passed swiftly. I started taking public transportation to and from work and learned my way around the city, though Illiana was disappointed when I no longer drove into work with her.

I'd asked HR if I could work double shifts or do other work around the plant and, after Illiana interceded for me, I was given the job as night watchman. The extra income would enable me to more quickly pay back Illiana everything she'd spent on me, including the ill-fated payoff to that bastard Nacho. She insisted I owed her nothing, but I didn't like the feeling of having any kind of debt hanging over my head. I was only getting a few hours sleep a day and trying to make up for it over the weekends, but it was worth the trouble. However, I was no closer to finding out anything about my past and had no clue as to where to look.

Now that I wasn't home in the evenings and slept a good deal on the weekends, Illiana made it a point to show up in the warehouse at noon every day and invite me to eat lunch with her. I enjoyed her company, but didn't want to give her any false signals. She was a good, honorable woman and deserved more than I could give her, at least in the foreseeable future. Lunchtime was the only time we really saw much of each other. Still, I planned on finding my own place as soon as I paid her back the money I owed her.

Illiana tried to convince me that I should accept a promotion to the new international business division. She said I had more business savvy than any of her current employees and she wanted me to meet her grandfather and extol my talents to him. I was worried about drawing attention to myself. I still had no legal identification papers, not even a driver's license. I also had an inkling that her grandfather would never let me work in one of his prominent 'all-white' offices. I didn't really care about my chances for upward mobility; I was more concerned with discovering my identity and unearthing my past. I kept searching the Internet, but without any luck.

I finally did meet her grandfather. Andrew Barnes was an elderly, though robust, white-haired man, tall and straight-backed with a no-nonsense attitude. He definitely had cultivated an intimidating air about him and his employees showed him great deference. When Illiana introduced us, he refused to shake my hand, but I felt him scrutinizing me carefully.

Illiana told her grandfather about the assistance I'd given her when she was developing her international business plan. She praised my extensive knowledge of legal matters and cutting through governmental regulations, permits and other requirements. None of it seemed to have a favorable effect on him. It was obvious he disliked me intensely. From the little I knew of Andrew Barnes and his people skills, I wasn't too fond of him either.

0o0o0o0o0o

In my job as night watchman, most nights were quiet and boring. I was the only one on the property and since it was fenced with locked gates, there didn't seem to be much security threat or danger.

However, one night I was making my rounds and checking doors in the manufacturing plant when I heard the encapsulating equipment turn on. Upon investigating, I found Andrew Barnes and the plant manager meticulously weighing out numerous powders and then loading them into the mixing vat for eventual placement into gel capsules. Both men's hands were stained red. The encapsulating machine was filling gel caps by the thousands. There was also another machine in operation, a portable piece of equipment I'd never seen before. Flat white sheets of plastic went in one end and came out the other end as formed bottles, to be filled with the capsules. I approached Mr. Barnes, but he became furious when he saw me and ordered me out of the room, telling me to never disturb him again when he was working.

I continued my rounds, contemplating Barnes' odd behavior and decided it warranted taking a closer look into the rest of Barnes & Nobel's business ventures.

A few nights later, as I began my shift as watchman, the head of security instructed me to ignore any trucks entering the property that night. He told me there was an emergency shipment of drugs that needed to go out as soon as possible.

Around midnight, a large unmarked truck pulled up to the back entry and a man got out and unlocked the gate. The truck backed up to the warehouse loading dock and the truck driver and passenger loaded a large number of cartons from the open cargo bay into the back of the truck. The men then drove the truck off the property, relocking the gate.

My gut told me the two events – finding Barnes making some kind of encapsulated product in the middle of the night, and the secretive nighttime shipment – were related. I made it my business to find out what it was all about.


	27. Chapter 27 So Close

**Chapter 27— So Close**

_Close Only Counts in Horseshoes and Hand Grenades_

Stephanie's POV

Though I had no concrete proof yet that anyone from Barnes & Nobel Pharmaceuticals had anything to do with the Sudden Death drug die-offs, I decided to go to San Francisco and check things out. I was hoping if I visited the company and talked to the people there, something would shake out. I didn't know what I'd ask or what reason I'd give for asking questions, but I knew going to San Francisco was my next step. I didn't think Pax would approve, so I didn't tell him.

I'd heard that a Rear Admiral in the Navy had once said, _'It's easier to ask forgiveness than it is to get permission.'_ I liked the sound of that and how could Pax fault me for obeying his beloved Navy?

The flight was smooth and I had no trouble catching a cab to my hotel. I'd called ahead to Barnes & Nobel and made an appointment with the company president under the guise of a DEA inspection.

As I walked into the main building of Barnes & Nobel Pharmaceuticals, I was enveloped by greenery. The entire middle of the building was a four-story vertical atrium packed with thousands of green growing plants, trees and vines. I felt like I was back in the Amazon rainforest, complete with the earthy smells and humidity.

On each floor, there was an inner walkway encircling the atrium, with offices on the outer edges of the building. Above me, I could see people leaning over the railing enjoying the scenery. It looked more like a botanical garden than an office building. With all the moisture in the atrium, my artificially straightened hair immediately reverted to its curly state. So much for fashion!

I approached the reception desk and gave the young woman seated behind the counter my name and business card and told her I had an appointment with Mr. Barnes. She made a quick phone call and let me know a security guard would escort me up to Mr. Barnes' penthouse office.

After only a minute's wait, a uniformed guard appeared out of nowhere and motioned me toward a glass-enclosed elevator. We rode up to the fourth floor and the man led me to an interior office. Everything was very posh and designer looking. Seated at a glass-topped desk was a middle-aged woman with platinum blonde hair pulled into a French roll.

"Ms. Plum? Please go right in. Mr. Barnes is expecting you," said the fashionably dressed woman as she stood and opened the door into an adjoining office. I walked into a large, window-filled room that looked out on the Bay.

A tall, elderly gentleman rose to greet me as I entered the office. "Ms. Plum. I'm Andrew Barnes. It's nice to meet you." He strode toward me and extended his hand. "It's not often we get to entertain a federal investigator, and certainly never one as attractive as you." We shook hands and I felt the need to rub my palm on my skirt. He wasn't a bad looking man for an eighty-year old, but there was a predatory look about him that set me on edge. I think even my Grandma would pass on Andrew Barnes.

Pulling a chair up close to the one he indicated for me, Barnes began the requisite pleasantries. "Welcome to San Francisco and Barnes & Nobel. Have you visited our fair city before?"

I crossed my legs and noticed the long look Mr. Barnes gave my legs and then the rest of my body. A slight shudder ran through me. I refocused on answering his question. "This is my first time in San Francisco. From the little I've been able to see, it's a lovely city. I wish I had more time to explore it," I said, trying hard to maintain a pleasant expression on my face.

"Maybe I can help you with that. I'd love to be your tour guide while you're here," he said. Barnes' wrinkled face erupted into a lop-sided smile, "There are a lot of beautiful sights to see and San Francisco is known for capturing hearts."

I could hear the strains of Tony Bennett's signature song in my mind. I had no intention of leaving my heart here; besides, my heart was with Ranger wherever he was. Andrew Barnes was trying too hard to be charming and my spidey sense was going off. Or maybe I just didn't like him. He seemed overly friendly and a little creepy. It felt like he was hitting on me and he was old enough to be my grandfather, maybe older.

"Mr. Barnes…"

"Please, call me Andrew, Ms. Plum. And may I call you Stephanie?"

"_Mr. Barnes_, as I told you over the phone, I'm here to inspect your premises and ensure that the requirements under which you obtained your DEA license to manufacture controlled substances are being followed."

Barnes gave me a tight smile. "All business, eh? I assure you, my entire company is at your disposal. I think you'll find everything is in order. Though I am surprised that the DEA sent a Diversion Investigator out. Have you received any complaints that my company is diverting controlled substances?"

"There are always complaints," I said with a forced smile, "but this inspection is merely routine. A new administration, a new policy. You know how it is when politicians get involved." I smiled again.

At that moment, a woman about my age entered the room. She was stunningly beautiful, with long flowing dark hair, big blue eyes with lashes to die for, and an incredible tan. She also had a voluptuous figure accented by a tiny waist. I felt grossly inadequate with my Hungarian peasant frame, B cup, pale pasty skin and out of control frizz mop.

Barnes stood to greet her and I followed suit. "Ms. Plum, this is my granddaughter, Illiana Parduhn. She heads up our international division and can answer all your questions. Illiana, will you give Ms. Plum a tour of our facilities? And please see that she has access to anything or any area she wishes to see." Illiana and I shook hands and exchanged pleasantries.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" Barnes asked in a hopeful tone.

"Not at the moment, Mr. Barnes. I appreciate you opening your company doors to me on such short notice."

Barnes took my hand and covered it with his other hand, smiling at me with an almost lascivious leer. "Maybe you would let me take you to dinner this evening, Ms…ah… Stephanie? I know a great little seafood place down by Fisherman's Wharf."

"Thank you for the invitation, Mr. Barnes, but my evening plans are already set." I gratefully turned to Illiana. "I'm ready for my tour. I'm especially interested in seeing your research and development facilities."

We left Barnes' office and Illiana gave me a very thorough tour of the office buildings, the manufacturing plant and finally, their research and development labs. The greenhouse was next to the R&D labs and that gave me the avenue to ask about the rainforest plants I'd read the company used in many of its pharmaceuticals.

Illiana almost preened when I mentioned the company's remarkable rainforest discoveries. With considerable pride in her voice, she told me about her grandmother's decades of ethnobotany research and her grandfather's innovative pharmacognosy work, and then had to explain what it all meant.

"So, your grandfather wasn't always a businessman?" I asked.

Illiana shook her head. "No, he was a research chemist, actually a phytochemist.

"He used to work in the lab when he was younger?" I asked.

"Oh, he still does. It's his first love and he regularly puts on the ole lab coat and spends hours late at night searching for new cures." Illiana chuckled. "That's how my grandparents met. My grandmother had brought back some amazing plants the indigenous people of South America used to treat illnesses and she met my grandfather, who was a budding medical researcher. They teamed up and with the financial backing of my grandfather's best friend, Albert Nobel, started their own pharmaceutical company."

"Sounds like a match made in medical heaven," I joked. Well, it got a polite chuckle from Illiana. "What kind of plants do you use in your research?" I asked, wondering how I was going to steer the conversation to mushroom spores.

Illiana seemed in her element. Her voice and face became quite animated. "We've looked at literally hundreds of rainforest plants over the years, but only a handful have proven to be commercially successful."

"Have you ever researched other living things, like, say… mushrooms?" I asked, trying to keep my voice casual.

"Oh yes, many species. Mushrooms have great untapped medicinal potential. There is one my grandfather has been studying for over a decade now for its birth control properties, but he hasn't been able to 'crack its code' so to speak. To be commercially viable, you have to be able to synthetically reproduce the active ingredient. We've also studied insects and amphibians. The findings come when we least expect it."

A smile broke out across her face. "Two years ago, I brought back a tiny species of bromeliad my paternal grandmother said cured _heartache_. Turns out she meant heart pains, better known as angina. And she was right. We were able to synthesize the active ingredient and it is in a rigorous testing program right now. We hope to have it ready for distribution in a year or two."

"That must be rewarding, to be a part of something that makes people's lives better and can even save lives," I said.

She nodded. "My entire family has devoted their respective lives to that end and I am proud to carry on that tradition."

Illiana was very friendly and informative. She was forthcoming and not at all evasive. I might actually get to like her if she wasn't so downright gorgeous. But it seemed she had a boyfriend who worked at the company. When she mentioned his name, her face lit up. I knew that look. She was in love.

Making small talk as we walked back through the halls to the reception area, I commented, "Your last names seem similar – Parduhn and Pardo. Did you meet your boyfriend here at Barnes & Nobel?"

She laughed at that, though I hadn't meant it to be funny. "Actually, I've only known Marc for a couple months, but we're already living together and we work together every day, so it seems like we've known each other for a long time. He's an absolutely wonderful person and the most handsome, courageous man I've ever met," she gushed.

Our conversation about boyfriends made my heart ache for Ranger, but no drug could cure me, only having Ranger back could take away the pain. I hoped to hear from the tall thin man soon so I could continue the search for him.

"I'm glad you've found someone you obviously adore. The man who has my heart is 'missing in action' and I'm very worried about him. Hang on to yours. I'd give anything to be able to go home to my guy every night."

"Oh, that's terrible. I'll say a prayer for you and your sweetheart at Mass this Sunday." Illiana walked me back to the reception area and we said our goodbyes.

I didn't know yet if I'd actually found the smoking gun I was looking for, but the information about the possible 'birth control' mushroom seemed to fit the bill. Pax would know how to handle this new information. It also might lessen his anger over me jumping the gun and coming to San Francisco without his permission.

I got weird vibes from the plant manager and from Andrew Barnes. Something was up with them. Now, I just needed to find proof that my spidey sense was right. The back of my neck tingled the entire time I'd been there.

As I left Barnes & Nobel, I knew I should call Pax and let him know where I was and what I'd found out. Having him shout at me now over the phone seemed preferable than having him shout at me face to face when I returned to DC.

I negotiated the steps that ran down into the sunken plaza in front of the Barnes & Nobel offices and stopped at the center fountain. Digging into my handbag, I pulled out a quarter, made my usual _'Ranger come home safe'_ wish and kissed the coin before tossing it into the water. With a deep sigh, I quickly walked across the rest of the plaza and ran up the steps. A taxi pulled up just as I reached the street and I got in.

I'd call Pax as soon as I was back at my hotel. I had big plans tonight for some extravagant room service and whatever movie was playing on HBO.

Marc's POV

My days were spent in the monotonous shuttling of materials from one building to another and stacking carton after carton against the warehouse walls. I didn't have to worry about anyone asking questions about my past that I couldn't answer. Very few people at Barnes & Nobel would even acknowledge my presence.

There were a few, all women, who liked to flirt with me. Some days, it was the only thing that broke through the tedium of my daily routine. Maggie, the first floor receptionist who was working on her pharmacy tech certification, was friendly to me, and Cathy, in Research & Development, talked to me whenever we bumped into each other in the employee lounge.

My nights as a security watchman, however, were a little different. Something wasn't right at Barnes & Nobel and I couldn't let it go. So I spent my nights searching through the buildings and offices looking for clues, anomalies and anything suspicious. I had no idea what I was looking for, but I was sure it was something illegal. Possibly, Barnes was selling certain drugs for 'recreational' use to pushers as opposed to selling drugs for purely medicinal use through legitimate channels.

I started keeping count of the cartons of drugs I carted to the warehouse and tracking where each of them was being shipped. After weeks of this, the only unaccounted for shipments were the ones the trucks took out at night and that had only happened that one time. Whatever it was that was occurring, it didn't happen that often, but I knew any quantity of illegal drugs could fetch exorbitant prices on the black market.

The next thing to look for was paperwork that might reveal the illegal sale of controlled substances. I started with the shipping offices and worked my way to the plant manager's office. I looked through file cabinets and computer hard drives, at least the ones that were left on. I wasn't able to hack into the ones requiring a password. The executive offices, including Andrew Barnes' office, would be my next place to search. But first, I needed to know more about the specifics of the company's business and about Andrew Barnes himself. This weekend, I'd make it a point to get Illiana talking about both.

But for today, I was done with my boring manual day job and had a few hours to get dinner before my night job/sleuthing mission started. I cleaned up my work area and walked over to the main office. There was the usual 5 o'clock mass exodus as people hurried home to their families. Maggie was just straightening the reception area, so I waited until she was done and walked her to the door. Leaving through the company's front door, we stepped out onto the top of the terraced plaza.

"Everyone's all excited about today's visit from an investigator from the Drug Enforcement Administration," she gossiped. "The department heads were buzzing about all day trying to figure out what initiated the inspection."

"They don't know?" I asked. This sounded promising. If the DEA had sent someone to investigate the company, someone else was suspicious of Barnes & Nobel.

Maggie shook her head. "I know the inspector specifically asked to tour the R&D labs, but I don't have any details yet. By midday Monday I will, though," she grinned. I'd make it a point to stop by her desk first thing next week and ask her what she'd learned.

Then I remembered Cathy, the lab tech. Illiana told me her grandfather still spent a considerable amount of time working in the lab in search of potential medicines. I needed more information to jumpstart my search into the company's dealings. If I could get Cathy talking about the research she's doing, maybe she'd also talk about Andrew Barnes and any possible reason why the DEA would be interested in R&D. Cathy had mentioned she spent every Saturday morning helping out at her local parish preparing the church bulletin. Maybe tomorrow, I'd casually run into her when I visited Old Saint Mary's Cathedral to light a candle in memory of someone; I just won't tell her the candle is for me, the _me_ I can't remember.

While Maggie and I were talking, I'd been scanning the plaza and checking farther out onto the sidewalk and street. There were people everywhere, all moving rapidly. All except for one person. A woman was standing still facing the plaza's fountain. I watched as she raised her hand to her lips and threw something into the splashing water. I imagined she was making a wish, a universal superstition. The longer I looked at her, the more unsettled I felt.

Maggie was still talking, but I wasn't hearing anything she was saying. There was something about that woman's silhouette that struck a chord in me. I hastily said goodbye to Maggie and ran down the first set of steps into the plaza as the woman was running up the steps out of the plaza toward the street.

There'd been a few times in the past month, I'd seen someone and wanted to go up to them and ask, "I'm Marc Pardo. Do I know you?" but hadn't. The urge was overpowering this time.

I jogged across the plaza, but by the time I reached the street, the woman had already hailed a cab and was driving away. I was so drawn to her, I even looked around for another cab to follow her, but there were none in the vicinity.

Disappointed, I walked down the street to a local bistro to get something for dinner. I was beginning to think I'd make a lousy detective. I couldn't catch the woman in the plaza, I couldn't figure out what was wrong at Barnes & Nobel, and I was having no luck finding anything about my past. Maybe it was time to hire a private detective and see if he'd have any better luck tracking down my identity.

Stephanie's POV

I pushed the key card into the slot and entered my hotel room. The curtains were closed so it was quite dark inside which suited me just fine. I was ready to flop down on the bed in my thinking position and 'think' until dinnertime.

Just as my butt hit the bed, a man's voice sounded from the chair in the corner. I rebounded back up and started to scream, but the man moved like greased lightning and had his hand over my mouth before a single 'help' escaped. His long arm snaked out and flipped on the overhead light. While I didn't exactly relax, I stopped struggling. My 'attacker' was the tall thin man from the cemetery.

He kept his hand over my mouth, and said, "If you promise not to scream, we have business to discuss."

I nodded. He released me and eased back down in the corner chair. "You called me?" he said it more as a statement than a question.

I sat back on the edge of the bed and studied him. He didn't look as mysterious as he had that day in the cemetery. Today, he was wearing Army fatigues and I could see his eyes; they were ordinary hazel. He wasn't a bad-looking man and he was younger than I thought, probably in his mid-thirties.

He watched me watching him. "Do I pass muster?" he inquired.

_Muster?_ I stopped myself from rolling my eyes. "I should be used to you guys breaking into my room by now," I muttered. "Are you Special Forces?"

"What I am is not important. Do you still want to find Ranger Mañoso?"

"Yes." _Hell, yes!_ "That's why I called. Do you know where he is?" I asked, excitement rising within me.

He shook his head. "There is no evidence that he ever left South America, but knowing Ranger, he wouldn't leave any evidence."

"You actually _know_ Ranger?"

He nodded. "We trained together for a mission. It was the first time I'd met him, but his reputation is well known. You might say he is a legend among the Shadows."

"The Shadows?"

"Contract mercenaries." He clarified, "We only work for our own government."

I had a million questions, but I just sat there and gazed around the room. I was at a loss at what to ask or say. This guy was intimidating and he wasn't even trying.

"What do I call you?"

"My name's Delgado. Look, Ms. Plum…"

"It's Stephanie or Steph."

"Look, Stephanie, I have a team and a private plane waiting for us. You better have an idea of where to begin this search or we can't help you."

I thought back to Arabelo and the old lady that told me about the tribal village along the river. I repeated it to Delgado. He nodded and then frowned. "That would have been a good place to look at back then, but it's been nearly a year now and if Ranger was alive and mobile he wouldn't have stayed there this long."

"What if he were injured?" I asked. "What if his injuries were too severe to walk out of the jungle? What if he were stuck in that village?"

I hated to think that, but I couldn't think of any other reason why Ranger hadn't come home or gotten a hold of Tank by now. The only other thought that had crept into my mind was that Ranger was purposely staying away because of the bounty on his head and he was trying to protect us, us being RangeMan, his family and me. Maybe hiding out in the village was his way of protecting those he cared about?

"Well, we know Ranger was injured in the mine explosion, so that's plausible. It's your dime. We're going anyway, so get packed up."

"_Wait_. What do you mean, _get packed up?_ We're leaving _now?_ I don't have anything to wear but business suits. And heels! I don't even have my passport with me." I stood there, mouth agape, trying to picture myself in the middle of the jungle in my new silk suit and four-inch heels.

"The way we're traveling, you won't need a passport. And we'll stop at Popular Surplus on the way to the hangar and get you some appropriate gear. C'mon. Get cracking."

Still not grasping the urgency of the situation I stood rooted in place, until Delgado twirled his hand at me in the classic, 'get moving' gesture. I grabbed my suitcase and threw it on the bed and then glanced back over at Delgado. "What's this about 'my dime'? How much is this going to cost me? _Never mind_. I don't want to know. Can I pay in installments?"

That got a chuckle from Mr. Thin Man.

I rushed from the closet to the bed to the dresser drawers, throwing stuff in my suitcase without folding it. Delgado didn't seem like a man to be kept waiting.

Then I remembered Pax. I picked up my phone and flipped it open. "I have to call my boss and let him know where I'm going."

Delgado snatched the phone from my hands. "No one can know about this. Especially not anyone in the government. What we're doing isn't exactly legal."

I think I knew that, but didn't really want it spelled out for me. I exhaled noisily. "But he doesn't even know I'm in San Francisco. When I don't check in, he'll report me as missing. I have to at least leave him a message," I pleaded.

"You can leave a message _on his office phone_ when we board the plane. If you call his cell, he'll pick up and I'd prefer he not get any word from you until we're out of the country. It's Friday; with luck, he won't check his office messages until Monday."

Oh boy! Pax wouldn't be as peaceful as his nickname implied when he got my tardy message. Well, maybe I would be back home, with Ranger, by the time he heard it.


	28. Chapter 28 In Search Of

**Chapter 28 — In Search Of**

_If you're going through hell, keep going. ~ Winston Churchill_

Stephanie's POV

I couldn't get comfortable in the canvas harness; the straps criss-crossed directly over my boobs and smashed them flat against my chest. The camo clothing I'd been forced to wear was scratchy and smelled funny. Plus, there was cold air swirling around the hold and the plane felt like it was being buffeted around as the storm raged on outside.

I told myself it didn't matter. I was on my way to find Ranger – at last! I looked around the cargo plane's hold at the men I was entrusting to complete this mission.

The men had been introduced to me by one name only. There was Delgado and Tiburon; they were the two team members of Ranger's last mission that made it home alive. I learned their names meant Slim and Shark, respectively. They were both Hispanic looking and didn't look at all like Special Forces. Well, they weren't my idea of what Special Forces should look like, but not every man could look like Ranger.

The other three men were introduced as Gunner, Tas and Mono. I wasn't told what their names meant. They had muscles upon muscles and all three looked quite capable of mounting an invasion into a third world country. I was afraid to ask who they worked for.

The plane we were flying in had no insignia on it and it looked to be a hundred years old, but it was staying in the air. I just hoped it held together when we tried to land. Delgado had already informed me we weren't landing at a commercial airport. "Too many questions," he said.

Delgado unbuckled himself from his harness and moved over next to me. "You look a little green. Don't be worried about the storm. We'll be out of it in a few minutes and should have smooth sailing the rest of the way." He gave me what I'm sure he thought was a reassuring smile, but it looked more like a smirk.

"I think your idea of smooth sailing and mine are two entirely different things," I muttered, swallowed down the rising bile. This had all happened so fast, my head was spinning. How did I know I could trust these guys? Why did they get out safely and Ranger and the other two didn't? And, mental head slap, why… why was I just asking myself these questions now?

Looking at Delgado, I started my litany of questions that were bouncing around inside my brain, "If the Venezuelan government is still searching for Ranger, aren't they also searching for you and Tiburon? What's going to happen once we land? What if we run into someone? This is going to be really dangerous, isn't it? Why are you doing this?"

I stared at him, trying to gauge his mood, his commitment. His response reminded me of Tank.

"You ask too many questions." He looked anywhere but at me. Then he sighed. And sighed again. "We're landing at a private strip where _no one_ asks questions. The Venezuelans don't really care about Tiburon or me because we got out and delivered our Intel already."

Running his hand through his hair, he said, "Because of you and the men at RangeMan, even Jorge was able to deliver his information, albeit posthumously." _How could that be?_ I started to ask another question, but Delgado cut me off with an abrupt gesture. "We owe you for bringing Jorge home and letting us give him a proper burial. His family – his parents, his wife and two young sons – were very grateful."

I had little to do with rescuing Jorge's body, but it didn't seem prudent to bring that up right now. "Well, I am very grateful to you for arranging this 'mission.' I could never do this alone."

He grinned. "This is fun for us. Tiburon and I were getting worried we'd never feel the old excitement of gearing up for a new mission again. It feels good, like new life pumping through me."

"That must be how Ranger feels when he's called up for a mission," I said, but it was really a question. A part of me didn't want to know; it was a part of Ranger's life where I didn't exist. I looked away, trying to still my rising emotions.

Delgado's face softened as he glanced over at his team members. "When you belong to a Special Forces team, life is all about the thrill, the danger, the unknown. It gets in your blood. It's hard to move on… retire, even when you know you should."

He looked back at me. "You asked why we're doing this. The first rule of any mission for a Sombra, a Shadow, is to secure the goal. In our case, it was to get the information out, regardless of any danger to ourselves or our team members. But we were all once Special Forces, too, and it's ingrained to never leave a man behind. We were all to get out of the country any way we could. Tiburon and I didn't know the other three didn't make it out until we were already home. We've been in hiding ever since, with the Venezuelan government breathing down our necks."

He looked down at his hands. "We're not just doing this for Ranger. Two days ago, we finally got word on the location of our fifth team member."

I whipped my head around. "The one that didn't make it out, the one nobody had heard from?"

He nodded. "His name's Cuchillo... the Knife. We found out he'd been discovered by the Iranians. They were his specific assignment. They've been holding him captive all this time and they finally broke him. That's the 'evidence' the Venezuelan government has been holding over our government's head. We need to spring him so they can't continue to use him against us. I'm going to warn you. If we're able to get him out alive, he's not going to be in any shape to be polite company for a woman. I don't know what forms of torture they used on him, but I know it won't be pretty. I'm expecting him to not be 'in control.' He may be quite dangerous; he may be catatonic. Either way, keep your distance from him."

My god, what these men must endure as soldiers, whether they wore the uniform or not. What if Ranger is a prisoner, too? What will he be like when we find him? Will he even recognize me? Will I have to keep my distance from him out of fear he might hurt me?

Delgado motioned for the other men to join us. With a pointed look at me, he warned, "We need to make sure we don't run into any law enforcement or soldiers, so if _any_ of us tell you to do something, _no_ questions, _just do it_." I nodded.

Then they went over a 'plan' on how to stay under the government's radar and move through the countryside unnoticed. I knew this was primarily for my benefit. The guys knew their stuff and I was just along for the ride. I told them everything I could remember about how to get to the village near the uranium mine.

I also told them I couldn't go back to Arabelo. When they asked why, I refused to answer on the grounds they'd laugh at me. They kept pumping me to tell them. I tried to explain I'd been ready to do anything for information on where Ranger was and had been duped by the locals. When these five badasses realized what I did, they couldn't stop laughing. I turned my back on them and refused to say anything else. I'd been right not to tell Tank and the guys.

My part in this mission was to bring enough money to pay any bribes needed. Before we left San Francisco, Delgado had taken me to a bank and I'd depleted my entire savings, but if I needed to I would hock all my belongings and beg, borrow or steal whatever it took to find Ranger.

Delgado had let me leave a quick phone message for Pax late Friday before we took off, telling him I was taking some R&R and would be back in touch in a few days. I also added a cryptic message to get a hold of all research Barnes & Nobel was conducting on mushrooms, specifically studies pertaining to birth control. I didn't know what Pax's reaction would be to my vague message, but I couldn't worry about that now.

Before we landed at a dirt airstrip in the middle of the jungle _somewhere_ in Venezuela, I turned over my life savings to Delgado. He took care of everything else. An SUV was waiting at the airstrip to get us to Tanimiña, which was the village north of Arabelo and situated along a river. I had flashbacks to a similar miserable road trip with Tank, Bobby and Lester. This trip wasn't quite as long, though it still took the better part of a day and it rained the entire time. Our SUV had no top and the six of us were crammed together in a space designed for four.

When we arrived at Tanimiña, Delgado procured a small hut for us to spend the night in so we had a roof over our heads, but the sanitary 'accommodations' were a small outhouse a couple hundred yards into the jungle. No running water, no electricity, just a hole in the ground. This was extreme roughing it, or so I thought. It only got worse. But it would be worth all the indignities if we found Ranger.

At this tiny river town, I expected us to find a motorboat and we did, but it was far from what I pictured. Delgado coaxed a local fisherman into renting out his dugout canoe. I took one look at the hollowed out tree with a detachable outboard motor on it that Delgado had spent a fortune (my fortune) to rent and refused to get in it. He had to calm me down and remind me it was the only way to get to the village to look for Ranger.

The trip down river was nerve-racking for me, but the guys treated it like a pleasant Sunday excursion. They were really enjoying themselves, while I was being eaten alive by bugs, some bigger than a Chihuahua and much uglier too. There were horrendous noises emanating from the jungle that surrounded us. The first time they 'sounded' I nearly jumped into Tiburon's lap. When he told me they were just Howler monkeys, I was imagining these cute little things with sweet faces, but then I got to see one up close and they were huge and had long scary fangs and after that every sound sent me into near hysterics.

I was relieved when we finally pulled into shore amidst several other dugouts. The others jumped out and disappeared into the jungle to scout things out. Delgado held the canoe while I clambered out, none too gracefully.

As he secured the canoe to a tree, he cautioned me, "The tribesmen may not be friendly to us. In the last few years, the government has held an unfriendly stance toward many of the indigenous people, mainly because of the protests some of the tribes have made over the government's rainforest slash and burn projects, and other deforestation due to open pit mining and agriculture. Soldiers make regular sweeps through the various tribes and they aren't making social calls."

"But we aren't soldiers," I retorted.

"We're armed, we're foreigners, we're intimidating. Not much difference, at least to the tribesmen." Delgado motioned me behind him as he strode up the riverbank. The other four men slipped in behind us as we approached the small village. My heart started pounding. Ranger could be in this village right now.

They were waiting for us, the entire tribe it looked like. The men of the tribe were in a defensive line at the beginning of their village, and they were armed with machetes and crude bows and arrows. Though primitive looking, I had no doubt their weapons were just as deadly as their more refined counterparts. The women and children backed up the men with spears and, of all things, cast iron frying pans. I searched every face, but none was Ranger's.

Delgado kept his firearms holstered and held up his hands, palms outward. He spoke in Spanish, so I couldn't understand anything, but he kept his voice calm and non-threatening. "Venimos en paz. Estamos buscando un amigo y esperamos que nos puede ayudar." [_We come in peace. We are searching for a friend and hope you can help us._]

A tall older man, probably the tribe's leader, responded to Delgado. He seemed polite, even friendly. "Todos los hombres de paz son bienvenidos en nuestro pueblo. En cuanto a su amigo, no hemos visto los extranjeros en la selva. Le invitamos a descansar un rato antes de continuar su viaje." [_All men of peace are welcome in our village. As to your friend, we have seen no foreigners in the jungle. You are welcome to rest a while before you continue your journey_.]

Delgado stepped forward and extended his hand to the leader, "Gracias por su hospitalidad. ¿Podemos hacerle algunas preguntas?" [_Thank __you for your hospitality. May we ask you some questions?_]

"Soy Juan, el líder de esta tribu Ye'kuana. Por favor, siéntate conmigo y hablaremos." [_I __am Juan, the leader of this Ye'kuana tribe. Please, sit with me and we will talk_.] The man motioned us forward as the rest of the tribe slowly filtered back to their huts. A young boy remained with us, though he sat well behind the man. I sat next to Delgado and the four guys sat behind us. I felt blinded, unable to understand what was being said.

"Me llamo Delgado. Mis amigos y yo estamos buscando un camarada. Ha estado ausente durante mucho tiempo, durante casi diez meses. Sabemos que fue herido no muy lejos de aquí y que los soldados buscaban para él." [_I_ _am called Delgado. My friends and I are searching for a comrade. He has been missing for a long time, for nearly ten months. We know he was injured not too far from here and that soldiers were looking for him_.]

The man lifted his head and sat back as Delgado spoke. He obviously was reacting to something Delgado was saying. Even the boy sat up and his eyes got big. He scooted forward to say something, but the older man hushed him. I wished I'd paid better attention to my high school Spanish teacher. All I could understand was 'My name is Delgado.'

Delgado put his hand on my knee and said something in Spanish, including my name. "Esta es la novia de mi amigo, Stephanie. Ella está desesperada por cualquier palabra de su amado." [_This is my friend's betrothed, Stephanie. She is desperate for any word of her beloved_.] The man's eyes widened at whatever Delgado was saying to him. Delgado then asked me to describe Ranger, telling me he would translate for me.

Before I could speak though, the boy repeated my name. "Stefny? Son Stefny?" [_You are Stefny?_] Delgado looked from the boy to me and nodded yes_._

My heart leapt into my throat. The boy asked that question as if he'd heard my name before. _Omigod_, had Ranger actually been here, in this very village, maybe when I was in Arabelo those many months ago? _Had we really been that close?_ If we'd come here then, would we have found him? I didn't know whether to be happy or mad as hell.

Delgado introduced me to the tribal leader named Juan and then he nudged me. That's right. I was supposed to describe Ranger. Taking a deep breath, I plunged ahead. "The man we're looking for – his name is Carlos – is tall, like you, Juan. In fact, he looks very much like you only younger, with dark skin, long dark hair and brown eyes. He is very large with many muscles and he has many scars on his body." I crooked my arm up and flexed it like a bodybuilder, though my bicep was a pathetic example of muscle.

Delgado translated in rapid fire Spanish. "El hombre que estamos buscando – su nombre es Carlos – es alto, como usted, Juan. De hecho, parece mucho al igual que usted solo menor, con piel morena, cabello largo oscuro y ojos marrones. Él es muy grande con muchos músculos y tiene muchas cicatrices en su cuerpo."

Juan's face broke out into a big smile and the young boy jumped to his feet speaking excitedly. "Sí, él estaba aquí. Le llamamos Marco." [_Yes,__he was here. We called him Marco.]_

I knew what 'sí' meant. Tears filled my eyes. I leaned forward and reached out my hand."Was he alright? Was he badly injured? Where is he now?" Delgado translated and Juan replied. It was agony to wait until Delgado told me what he'd said.

"He was badly injured in a nearby mine explosion. My son, Joran," the boy stepped forward and offered his hand, first to Delgado and then to me, "found him floating face down in the river and brought him here. Our tribal healer removed the metal embedded in his skin and repaired his wounds. He was in a deep sleep for many days and it was many more before he could walk unaided."

Hearing Delgado's translation, I closed my eyes as tears began to stream down my face. Ranger had been injured and was probably in a coma when we'd come down here looking for him the first time. If only we'd come to this village then. He could have so easily died.

I took a deep breath and asked, "But he got better?" I searched Juan and his son's faces.

After Delgado translated, their faces broke out into smiles and they both nodded. "Yes, he became strong again and we accepted him into our tribe. He was very happy living as one of us," Juan replied.

_He was happy?_ I didn't know how I felt about that. I was just glad he was alive. All these months telling myself he was alive, but I'd always had this small seed of doubt, of fear. "And now, where is he now?" I cried. Waiting for each word to be translated twice was trying my patience.

Juan looked at me questioningly. "Marco left here nearly two months ago, with my niece. They were going to the United States of America. Is that not where you come from?"

I leaned back and Tiburon had to steady me. _Ranger was in the U.S.? Why, oh why hadn't he contacted any of us?_ I leaned forward again. "Why did you call him Marco? Didn't he tell you his name?"

Juan bit his lower lip, as if hesitant to say anything more. When he finally spoke, his voice was low. "Marco, or Carlos, if they are truly the same man, was severely injured. When he woke up he did not remember who he was or where he was from. He remembered nothing before the explosion." Juan glanced over at me. "Nothing of his life before here. He went north to find the truth about himself, though we would have gladly had him remain with us."

He couldn't remember _anything_? _Amnesia?_ Omigod, that would explain so much. It explained everything! Poor Ranger! He must be living in hell, unable to remember even his own name. Even me? My heart broke a little at that thought. I had so many questions, but Delgado spoke up first.

"Where were Carlos… Marco… and your niece going? And what is your niece's name?"

"I do not know the name of the place they were going, except that it is in the United States of America. My niece's name is Illiana Parduhn. She visits us several times a year and takes the plants we gather for her. She uses them to make cures for illnesses. Does that help?"

I was suddenly very dizzy and my eyes rolled back into my head. I felt a strong hand push my head down toward my lap and hold it there. "Take deep breaths, Stephanie. Slow deep breaths." Delgado released my head and ran his hand down my back, rubbing it until I regained my composure.

I was in shock. What were the odds? _It couldn't_ have been Juan's niece I just met in San Francisco, could it? The same Illiana Parduhn who was living with her lover, _Marco?_ Oh, God! I wanted to die!

Did I find Ranger just to lose him? I couldn't suck in air fast enough. Fuck, fuck, FUCK!

The relief that Ranger was alive was overwhelming, but the thought that he was in love with that beautiful… that voluptuous… a small sob escaped my lips.

And then it hit me! Illiana comes down here to collect rainforest plants… and mushrooms? And she works for Barnes & Nobel Pharmaceuticals? Again, what were the odds? Was she the mastermind behind Sudden Death? And I thought she seemed so nice, so sincere. I couldn't believe my spidey sense let me down. It'd never done that before. How could I have been so wrong?


	29. Chapter 29 Halfway There

**Chapter 29—Halfway There**

_The man who says he is willing to meet you halfway_

_is usually a poor judge of distance._

Marc's POV

The waitress cleared my plates from the table and asked if I wanted dessert. I shook my head. "Just the check, please."

She leaned against my table, smiled and tried to engage me in conversation, until I repeated my request for the bill. Sometimes, women flirting with me just became irritating; I was chasing bigger game.

The exception would have been the woman I'd seen earlier today walking across the plaza. She was another story entirely. I couldn't get her out of my mind. She was of average height with curly brown hair and she had a distinctive stride. I'd only gotten a glimpse of her face, but something about her called to me. Could she be someone from my past or was I just going crazy? I resolved to talk to Maggie first thing Monday morning. As the receptionist, maybe she'd gotten the woman's name.

In the meantime, I was due back at Barnes & Nobel to begin my security job. Based on what I'd seen plus my gut instincts, Barnes was involved in something illegal and I was determined to find out what it was.

Since Maggie had said the DEA investigator showed interest in the R&D lab, I concentrated my search there. I didn't have the knowledge base about drug compounds to discern what was legitimate or illegal about ongoing experiments, so I focused my efforts looking for emails, written reports and lab results that might be kept hidden from prying eyes. Once I entered the lab, I checked the file cabinets, but they were all locked. Same with the desks and drawers. The only unlocked things in the lab were the equipment storage cabinets. All the lab 'furniture' was made from standard plastic modular systems, which were not conducive to holding hidden compartments.

The more I thought about it, I realized it would make more sense for anyone trying to hide something to keep it in a more private place or even carry it with them. I should have thought of that before. This amnesia thing was affecting more than my memory. Monday night I'd search Barnes' office and also ask Illiana if her grandfather carried a briefcase with him. It wouldn't hurt to buy some tools to pick locks for the things I didn't have keys for. Maybe I'd been a burglar in my past life?

I slept in till 8 a.m. Saturday morning and after a brief workout, headed downtown to 'bump' into Cathy at the Catholic church she belonged to. Upon entering the cathedral, I automatically dipped my fingers into the font and crossed myself_._ Just being in the church felt familiar. Another clue to my past or just the feeling of peace most people get when they're in a beautiful place of worship?

I moved over to the side altar with the candle stand and dropped a twenty into the donation box. As I held the candle in my hand, I thought back to my first memory and smiled. Between a naked Nevi and the armed soldiers, I'd been pumping so much adrenaline into my system after being comatose for days I was surprised I didn't have a heart attack. Even after all these months, try as I might, I couldn't remember anything of my life before that moment, beyond the odd feeling here and there. I lit the candle and repeated the prayer I'd said everyday after that.

I stood in front of the altar, candle in hand, planning out my next move. I had to find out where Cathy was volunteering and casually run into her, but that problem resolved itself when I heard whispering coming from a side door. I glanced over and there was Cathy standing next to a young red-headed girl. Smiling at both of them I watched in amusement as the girl let out a low squeal and ducked back through the door and shut it leaving Cathy standing alone. Her cheeks turned red, but she walked over to me despite her obvious embarrassment.

"Good morning, Marc. Sorry about that." She looked back at the closed side door. "Gina told me there was a really handsome man in the church and wouldn't let me alone until I went with her to see him." She shot me an apologetic look. "You must get that a lot."

I glanced down and tried not to smile. It was nice to know even teenaged girls thought I still had 'it.' Cathy looked at the candle in my hand. "I'm disturbing you. I'll leave you to your prayers. It was nice to see you outside of work." She turned to go.

"Wait, Cathy. I'm finished here. And… I'm at loose ends. If you have some time, I wouldn't mind some company…"

She smiled and nodded. We walked out the front entry doors and with my hand at the small of her back I led her across the street to a square just south of the church. It was a small grassy park-like area that had a few benches under some trees and several statues of various saints scattered about. We sat down on a bench in the early morning sun, neither of us speaking for several minutes. I leaned forward with my arms on my knees and gazed around at the restful scene. Everything about it was peaceful; I wished I felt the same.

Breaking the silence, I surprised myself by confiding, at least in part, to Cathy. I couldn't bring myself to look at her, but I started speaking, "The candle I lit… I've been searching for someone… someone close to me, but haven't had much luck. I haven't given up hope, but there are times the search seems futile." I rubbed my face in my hands. "It's like a part of me is missing."

I was being truthful as much as I could be, but I didn't want people knowing I had amnesia. I didn't want their pity or their questions.

Cathy shifted her body to face me. "It's never easy to be apart from the ones we love." She laid her hand on my arm. "This must be someone very special to you."

I didn't want to lie to her so I changed the subject. It was bad enough I was pumping her for information. I straightened up and looked over at her. "I didn't mean to get into that. It's not something I want to talk about. I'd rather talk about you." I slid my arm over the back of the bench. "I understand you've worked at Barnes & Nobel for several years. Do you enjoy working in the lab?"

She stared at me for just a moment before sitting back and responding. I hadn't made a very smooth transition, but she graciously ignored that. "Yes, I do. Very much. There aren't many job opportunities to do the kind of pharmacognostic research I'm interested in."

I chuckled. "Forgive my ignorance, but what does that mean… pharmacog…? What exactly are you working on, if you're allowed to talk about it?"

"_Pharmacognosy_ is the study of medicines that come from natural sources like plants and other living organisms. I'm still classified as a lab tech, so I don't have my own projects yet, but I'm currently assisting on an interesting project for Mr. Barnes. He's been trying to synthesize a polyketide found in mushroom spores. From what I know of it, when used in the proper dosage, the normally toxic compound can inhibit pregnancy."

She hesitated before saying, "That must seem immoral to you, since we're both Catholic, but the longer I live, I'm not sure I agree with everything the Catholic Church expounds." She looked away toward the cathedral.

I understood her mixed feelings. I had many myself. I didn't even know if I _was _Catholic, let alone religious at all. But, the mushroom research intrigued me. "What do these mushroom spores look like," I asked.

"Well, the spores themselves are too small to see with the naked eye. Many mushrooms reproduce by developing a sac or ball filled with these microscopic spores that, when released into the air, settle on nearby surfaces and grow new mushrooms when conditions are right."

"No sex for mushrooms, huh?" I joked. "What kind of conditions do these spores need?"

"The ones we're studying come from the Amazon rainforest, so these mushrooms require considerable warmth and moisture to thrive, plus this particular mushroom requires an alkaline substrate to reproduce itself. Most mushrooms grow in an acidic substrate like the soils in the forests of northern California. Forgive me if I go on and on, but I really love my job."

I thought she was going to blush, but she smiled instead. She was an attractive woman and when she was talking about her work her face lit up and there was a sparkle in her eye. I found myself enthralled by her enthusiasm.

She continued, "We're trying to 'reproduce' a particular molecule in the spores using manmade substances. It's meticulous work and it has eluded all who worked on it in the past. But…" Cathy's face broke out into a wide grin, "a few months ago, I had a break through and now it's just a matter of testing it to see if my compound has the required 'shelf life.' In other words, will my synthetic replica retain its potency over time? It doesn't do the medical community or patients any good if the drug is only effective for a few hours after it's produced."

So, those three little _bolas de muerte_, those 'balls of death' I traded Illiana when she first arrived in the village are the same ones Cathy, and Andrew Barnes, were studying. Illiana even told me back then, the spores could be used to ensure a woman didn't get pregnant. Cathy seemed to confirm the research was on the up and up. So, what else was Barnes involved in?

"What else is Mr. Barnes working on?" I asked, feigning a nonchalant air.

Cathy shook her head. "Mr. Barnes has been working on this one project for at least the past 10 to 15 years. It has consumed his attention and I'm only one in a long line of assistants who have worked on it. Mr. Barnes is a demanding boss and goes through research assistants like a chain smoker. Some people say he fires assistants after two years and replaces them with a new one so no one person knows very much about what he is actually doing."

That sounded a little ominous. "How long have you been working on this project?"

"The end of this month, it will be two years," she said, in a quiet voice.

"But you've successfully synthesized the compound. That should put you in an entirely different category from his other assistants."

"Maybe. I've worked directly under Mr. Barnes for two years now and I don't think he's spoken more than a dozen words to me that weren't related to this project. I'm just another tool to be used."

"Why do you stay?"

"As I said, jobs in my field are hard to come by. And this company is the leader in researching plant-based medicines. I'm hoping to be given my own project after this. The lab director seems pleased with my work."

"Should I go in and light a candle for you?" I said, grinning.

I got a smile back, but it didn't last long. "No, but I appreciate the thought," she said. She looked at her watch. "I'm sorry, Marc, but I've got to run. I have a million things to do today and Gina was helping me put together the church bulletin. I need to finish that before noon." She stood up and held out her hand.

I took her hand in both of mine and thanked her for her time and for listening to me. She was easy to be around. She said she was happy to do it and would love to do it again. I'd have to keep that in mind if I ever figured out my own situation.

Now I was going home to Illiana and without alluding to what I'd seen or heard, I'd try to feel her out regarding the extent of her family's business and what Barnes was involved in. I didn't get any sense she knew anything other than the legitimate side of the company and I wasn't comfortable confiding in her – not until I had concrete proof.

I stayed in the square a while longer and watched Cathy walk back across the street. She was a tall cool drink of water and looked good coming and going. I was definitely getting tired of being alone.

Tank's POV

It was Saturday afternoon and my computer sounded the alert I'd set. Someone was searching for Marc Pardo again.

The searches were always on Saturdays and Sundays and were simple Google surfing, but they were focused on any aspect of that name. Of course, it might be just a coincidence and have nothing to do with Ranger. _Yeah, and I was a 120 pound white girl!_

Whoever was doing this had no idea how to effectively use the Internet to find anyone. So it couldn't be Ranger, but it gave me a spark of hope Ranger was back in the U.S. and using his alias. The searcher was probably someone who had questions about him. I'd finally been able to back track through the ISP network and identify the general location of the searcher. _San Francisco_.

With just a little more time, I'd soon learn the searcher's exact address and then I'd fly out to California and see why this person was searching for information about Marc Pardo. And with a little luck, that information would lead me to Ranger. The thought that kept me up at night, though, was why hadn't Ranger found some way to get word to me? Even if the Venezuelan government was breathing down his neck, he'd find a way to contact me.

I told Lester and Bobby about this, but decided to keep the information between us three. I didn't want to get Steph's hopes up until I had a little more information. The last time we talked, she was hot and heavy in her Sudden Death investigation. She was really going gangbusters on this case and I was proud of her. She didn't need any distractions.

Pax's POV

Stephanie's spidey sense had been spot on.

I read Marion's test results for the second time. The composition of the Barnes & Nobel vitamins we'd brought back from the Trenton free clinic included a trace amount of the same toxic substance we'd found in the deadly heroin. What Marion couldn't tell me was whether the toxin was an accidental or purposeful inclusion in the vitamins as the actual amount of toxin in the vitamins was so small. That was not the case in the heroin.

I'd asked Marion and her boss to contact toxicology and mycology experts to determine exactly what this substance was and what effect it had on humans. So far, they hadn't found anyone who could identify the substance beyond telling us it was from an unknown species of mushroom and it didn't require very much of it to be toxic to human beings.

My research into Barnes & Nobel Pharmaceuticals hadn't found anything unexpected. The company was started over fifty years ago and was steadily increasing in value. They had been very successful in developing marketable medicines not being produced by other drug companies. The company was well known for its innovative medicinal research on rainforest flora and fauna. I wonder if that included mushrooms?

I knew Stephanie would want to hear this information, but I hadn't been able to reach her. She'd been out in the field all day Friday, so I left her a message to contact me when she got back, but so far I hadn't heard from her. And she wasn't answering her phone, which was unusual. Now it was late night, and while she had weekends off she usually told me her plans. I went out to grab some dinner earlier this evening and stopped by her loft, but it was dark and no one answered the door.

When I returned to the office, there was a phone message from her. I'd just missed her call. Why did she call my office and not my cell? She asked for some time off; said she needed some R&R and would call me in a few days. Her message also asked me to get a hold of Barnes & Nobel's research on mushrooms and birth control. I know Steph was a bit eccentric, but she was hot on the trail of something big. I didn't believe she would take a few days off in the middle of our case at this crucial juncture. Something was wrong. I picked up the phone and called Tank.

"Have you heard from Stephanie yesterday or today?"

"No. What's up?" Tank's booming voice rang in my ears.

"She isn't answering her phone and she isn't at her apartment. She left me a message on my work phone instead of my cell. Said she was taking a few days off."

There was a brief silence on the other end. "She's in the middle of a case. That doesn't sound like her. I'll check my local contacts to see if she came here to visit family or friends. Call you back in an hour."

I knew what Tank would tell me. No one in Trenton had seen or heard from Stephanie Plum in days.

This weekend was going to be a busy one and I was going to be one unpopular special agent. First thing tomorrow morning, I was calling in our electronics specialist to try to trace the call Stephanie had left me.

Then I was calling in my team to start the process of getting a warrant to search the Barnes & Nobel premises for information leading to the use of drugs in an illegal and dangerous manner. I knew no judge would sign such a warrant with the flimsy evidence we currently had, so I had one more avenue to pursue.

I decided to drive up to Hazelton Penitentiary in West Virginia. It might be a wasted day, but I was going to give Mario Rodriguez another chance to tell me where he got his drugs.


	30. Chapter 30 The Fifth Man

**Chapter 30 —The Fifth Man**

_We cannot be sure of having something to live for _

_unless we are willing to die for it._

Stephanie's POV

Juan gave us a tour of his village and I tried to see it through Ranger's eyes. The village was so very primitive, but, in reality, it had all the basic necessities of life.

The people seemed healthy, happy and content. The children followed us everywhere we went. They were fascinated by my curly hair, which was one big frizz ball with all the rain and humidity. Joran proudly showed me the huge dugout canoe Ranger had helped to build and the skull of some animal he'd killed.

I could see Ranger enjoying both activities. It seemed he had been very happy here, and for that, I was grateful. According to Juan, it was only after Illiana came that Ranger expressed any desire to find out about his past. I tried unsuccessfully to suppress my jealousy, and suspecting what I did about Illiana now, my fear.

We had many more questions and Juan was straightforward with us, answering every question we put to him. He had Joran repeat all that he'd seen that day he'd found Ranger, the day of the mine explosion. Juan told us they weren't sure he would survive his injuries those first few days. He also described Ranger's life with the tribe and how well he fit in.

There had been one interchange between Juan and Delgado that Delgado hadn't translated for me. When I asked about it, he shook his head and said, "Later." Despite my curiosity, I let it go for now. My head was still reeling with everything I'd learned; I didn't think I could handle anything else.

I guess I shouldn't have been surprised at Ranger's ability to adapt to such a life. Ranger would do well on a twig and bug diet and roughing it would be no problem for him. But not to have any memories? Not to know who he was or where he came from? Not to be able to remember his family and friends? I asked how they knew my name, and they explained he had mumbled in his sleep and my name was one of the words he repeated over and over. So, some part of him still remembered me? I clung to that.

Juan was also forthcoming about Illiana. Turns out her father was Juan's brother who'd married Andrew Barnes' daughter. Both her parents were dead now. Juan spoke of his niece with great pride in his voice. She'd obviously fooled her uncle, too.

I couldn't bring myself to ask what I most wanted to know – how long had Carlos and Illiana been together? I could understand the physical part, but if he was in love with her? A part of me wanted to rush to San Francisco and fling myself into his arms, while another part of me dreaded returning home. What if he never remembered me, what we meant to each other? Or worse, that he did remember me and chose Illiana?

I needed some air, so I excused myself and got to my feet. As I turned to leave the hut, Joran blocked my way.

He tugged on my sleeve and said, "Stefny, quiero mostrarte algo, algo que perteneció a Marco." I looked over at Delgado and he translated, "Joran wishes to show you something, something that belonged to Marco… to Ranger."

I nodded to the little boy and he pulled me away from the others. We sat down next to the mud wall in a section of the hut that seemed to be where Joran slept. I wasn't used to a 'house' with no rooms or interior walls.

He grabbed the leather cord around his neck and pulled it over his head. Attached to the cord was a small leather bag about the size of a golf ball. Grinning, Joran opened the bag and dumped its contents onto a blanket, looking up at me expectantly. I stared down at the bits and pieces that spilled out, hoping to see something of Ranger's. All I could see were a small red feather, a wicked looking tooth from some animal, a bit of wood with something carved into it, some odd-shaped rocks and several jagged pieces of metal.

Joran picked up the metal fragments and held them out to me. "Estos son metralla que Yada retirado del cuerpo de Marco." [_These are shrapnel that Yada removed from Marco's body._] "De Marco," he said. [_From Marco_.]

I understood he was trying to tell me these pieces of metal were once Ranger's, but I had no idea what they were or why they were important. I know I had a confused look on my face. And then he took one of the metal fragments and pretended to 'dig' it out from his leg. _Oh, God!_ These were the pieces the old woman, Yada, had dug out of Ranger after the mine explosion. I looked at the sharp-edged remnants in my hand and imagined the pain he must have been in and then to have to undergo 'surgery' in these primitive conditions. And according to Yada, Ranger still had a few pieces of shrapnel buried in him, pieces that were too deep for her to remove without damaging him.

Joran obviously placed great value in these little pieces of 'Marco.' I took a second look and noticed one of the pieces was different. It wasn't metal. It was a small dirty white sliver of an unknown material. I plucked it out and handed it back to Joran. He pushed it back at me, exclaiming, "De Marco."

I looked at the white sliver more closely and realized it was manmade. It was actually a cylinder about an inch long and a quarter inch wide. It looked familiar and then it dawned on me what it was – some kind of implant, like a miniature GPS tracker or a data chip – _the kind spies used_. Ranger must have had this in him and the old woman took it out along with the metal. This wasn't shrapnel. _This was important_.

I gave the metal pieces back to Joran and held the cylinder up to him asking, "May I keep this?" I closed my fist around it and held it next to my heart. Slowly, Joran nodded and closed his hand around mine and said, "Sí, es tuyo." [_Yes,__it's yours_.] Good old-fashioned sign language works every time. I slipped it into my shirt pocket and said one of the few Spanish words I knew, "Gracias." [_Thank__you_.]

We spent the night with the Ye'kuana. The very healthy evening meal consisted of roasted fish, roasted tubers of some kind and a coarse dense bread. Ranger would have been thrilled with it. With a little gravy and butter and jam, the meal would have been pretty good, except there was no dessert. Who doesn't eat dessert? I chuckled thinking that maybe, with Ranger having amnesia, I could convince him he loves desserts. Hey, there's an upside to every situation.

I declined to join in the communal bath down by the river. I'd heard there were piranhas in the rivers down here and I wasn't taking any chance they'd find me particularly tasty. Plus, I wasn't getting naked with a village full of strangers. I would just have to stay stinky until we got back to civilization and hot running water. The guys, however, joined right in, as I imagined Ranger had done. There were several attractive women in the village, but, to my relief, they appeared to be already partnered and had young children with them, though everyone seemed to take care of the children. Well, they say it takes a village…

We left early the next morning amidst a send off by the entire tribe. Juan's mother, Yada, had taken a liking to me and reminded me a little of my Grandma Mazur. She gave me a handwoven basket filled with fruit, bread, and jerky (I didn't ask what kind of animal it came from) for our journey upriver.

We made good time on our way back to Tanimiña and to my delight, we left immediately in the SUV. It was late afternoon before we found our way back to the airstrip. Our pilot was ready to take off. I cuddled up in a corner of the plane and tried to sleep until we landed again, in another part of the jungle. It was nearly sunset.

The guys immediately geared up with an arsenal apiece. They were bound and determined to rescue their friend. I waited to receive my weapons until Delgado pulled me aside.

"Stephanie, we're going into a potential fire fight. I know you've trained with a handgun, but we may have to use grenades, C-4 and automatic rifles and do it as all hell is breaking loose. Unless you're trained for that, stay here with the pilot."

"But…" I began, and was quickly cut off by Delgado.

"This isn't your battle. You're in enough risk as it is, just being with us. Please, stay." He handed me a Sig Sauer. "Just in case. And remember what I said about keeping your distance from Cuchillo, if we're able to bring him back." The intense look on Delgado's face stopped me from protesting any further.

From the plane's back cargo ramp, I watched the five men disappear into the jungle. The pilot had made himself a bed up near the cockpit and was already snoring.

I was starving and found the basket Yada had given me. The guys had decimated most of the food, but there were still a few pieces of bread, a banana and another fruit I'd never seen before. I bit into it and it was delicious, the whitish pulp had a creamy vanilla caramel taste. After polishing off the last of the bread, I paced around the outside of the plane, keeping the handgun at the ready. I even dared to jog over to the edge of the jungle and 'take care of business'. I was getting used to this 'roughing it' stuff and was now telling myself 'Proud of you, Babe' instead of waiting to hear it from someone else.

While I was in the jungle, I found a fruit tree with yet another fruit I'd never seen. It was sweet and juicy, so I picked all the ripe fruit I could reach making a pouch of my shirt and carried them back to the plane. The guys would be hungry and the fruit would help tide them over. We had plenty of bottled water on board and packets of something called MREs. They didn't look like anything I wanted to eat, though.

I don't know how much time passed, but it was dark when I heard noises coming from the blackness surrounding us. Our pilot had started the engines and I stood near the open back ramp… waiting. Relief shot through me when I saw five head lamps bobbing in the darkness. The guys were obviously running full tilt toward the plane. I could hear men shouting in the distance and then gunfire sounded. If my heart hadn't already been in my mouth, it would be after hearing that. The gunfire was close enough to be able to see flashes coming from the guns' barrels. I shouted to the pilot to be ready to leave the second the guys were on board and pulled the Sig from the back of my waistband.

I couldn't see the faces of the men running toward me until they were only a few yards away. Delgado and Tiburon were half carrying, half dragging a man and the three other men were flanking them, guns drawn as they ran toward the plane. Gunfire came from the jungle's edge behind the guys and I took aim at the flashes of light, firing until the guys got on board.

And then, the ramp was raised and locked into place and the plane started accelerating down the dirt field. All I could think of was how could the pilot see in this pitch black? The runway was short and there were trees all around us. Shaking, I sank to the floor and buckled myself into a harness and watched as the others did the same.

Cuchillo, the man they'd rescued, was unconscious. He'd been held captive by the Iranians for nearly ten months and he looked like hell. He'd obviously been starved and beaten and had chunks of flesh gouged out of his skin. After the plane was in the air, Tiburon made a bed of blankets and loose clothing for him and tended to his wounds. I roused myself long enough to pass out the fruit I'd gathered, along with bottles of water. The guys looked beat, but pleased with their success.

When the plane passed out of Venezuelan air space, the men relaxed and settled in to sleep for the trip home. Luckily, none of the five men had been seriously injured in the rescue, but according to Delgado, it had been a close call. The Iranians clearly felt secure in their jungle compound and only had a few sentries posted along the perimeter. Delgado said Cuchillo wasn't even guarded. He was in such bad shape there was no way he'd survive in the jungle on his own even if he could have made it out of his cell. Delgado told me they'd almost made it out of the compound undetected, but a lone sentry saw them leaving and sounded the alarm. They exchanged gunfire with the few guards who chased them into the jungle. Tiburon thanked me for having their backs as they ran to the plane.

"What will happen to Cuchillo now?" I asked Delgado.

"We'll turn him over to… our government. He'll need a lot of help to recover, indeed, if he even can."

"Why did they hold him this long? Tank told me they wouldn't have kept Ranger alive this long."

"Cuchillo was captured by the Iranians, not the Venezuelans. There's a different mindset between the two cultures regarding treatment of American captives. The Iranians were able to successfully break Cuchillo, which was a foregone conclusion, but how reliable or damaging the Intel was that they got from him is difficult to tell. By getting him back to the U.S., we've at least put a huge roadblock in them being able to prove charges of espionage."

My heart went out to Cuchillo, and his family, but at least he was going home now. I was filled with fear of what I'd find when I came face to face with Ranger again. Would he know me? Would he ever be able to go home or want to? I huddled down in the harness and tried to sleep.

An hour later, I was still awake. The men were all sound asleep, seemingly able to sleep no matter what. There was some movement over by the injured man and some low moans. Delgado warned me to stay away from Cuchillo, but the man was clearly in distress. I grabbed a bottle of water and one of the fruits I'd picked earlier and made my way slowly over to the restless man.

Cuchillo was awake and when I approached him, he responded in fear at first. He tried to crawl away from me until I got closer and smiled at him, offering him the ripe fruit. He stared at me, and then his eyes darted around the cargo hold. He seemed to relax when he saw his comrades sleeping peacefully.

Snatching the fruit from my hand, he brought it to his mouth and then held it away. He put his other hand to his mouth and coughed, and then ravenously bit into the fruit barely chewing before he swallowed. He was filthy and there was an unpleasant odor coming from him. It was as if he'd been treated like an animal. My heart ached for him.

In a soft voice, trying to put him at ease, I said, "Slow down. There's more fruit. We even have a bunch of MREs, if you like that stuff." I grimaced and that got a slight smile from him. Whatever fears Delgado might have had about Cuchillo, I could see he still had his wits about him.

I handed him the bottle of water and crawled over to the food stores. The MRE on top said 'pot roast'. I figured that sounded like a good American meal for a homesick soldier so I grabbed it and went back over to Cuchillo. He was still struggling to open the bottle. I held out my hand and he reluctantly gave me the bottle. After opening it, I handed it back and he gulped down the entire contents. Seeing the brown paper bag in my hand, he reached for it and I let him take it. Again, he didn't have the strength or coordination to tear it open, so he let me do it. Ignoring the larger containers, he reached for the peanut butter and crackers.

"Ah, a man after my own heart," I said, giving him a big smile. He looked up at me and, very slowly, lifted one peanut butter-covered cracker to me. I shook my head, "I'm not hungry. Go ahead, please." I wanted to cry. He was starving yet he was willing to share with me.

After he finished all the crackers, he let his head fall back and sighed deeply. A hoarse, "thank you," nearly pushed my tears to the spilling point. Pulling himself up a bit, he leaned his shoulders against the hull of the plane.

"What month?" he asked. I told him and he closed his eyes, a pained look on his face. "I broke," he said and dropped his head, tears streaming down his cheeks. He covered his face with his hands and tried to stifle his sobs.

That did it for me and my own tears followed, but my voice was strong. "No. You _survived._ You beat them. You're going home and now they can't use you against us anymore. You won!" I gently took his hand in mine and rubbed the back of it, trying to comfort him the best I could. We sat there like that for several minutes.

"Who are you?" he asked, lifting his head and staring into my eyes.

"My name's Stephanie. We came to South America hoping to rescue two men. You and my… friend, Ranger Mañoso."

"_Ranger?_ Was he captured, too?" He looked crestfallen.

"No. Ranger was injured in a mine explosion and disappeared. We're still trying to find him."

"Thank God," he said and crossed himself. "Even death is preferable…" his voice trailed off and he wiped the remaining tears from his face. "You're close to Ranger?"

I nodded, my eyes stinging as more tears started forming.

I was still holding his hand in mine when he opened his fist and dropped something into the palm of my hand. As he removed his hand, I saw something familiar – a small sliver of white. Another implant! Cuchillo closed my fingers around it. "Guard this with your life. Give it only to Ranger. He'll know what to do with it." And then he sank down into the blankets. I waited for more, but he was obviously out.

I put the implant in my other shirt pocket and made sure the first one was still tucked away in the other pocket, the one that had been cut out of Ranger. What did these capsules contain that was so important that both Ranger and Cuchillo were willing to give up their lives?


	31. Chapter 31 Convergence

**Chapter 31—Convergence**

_Problems can become opportunities when the right people come together._

Tank's POV

My plane was right on time. I was lucky to get a seat in business class on such short notice on a Monday. Earlier this morning, I'd finally been able to track down the address of the person who was making the online inquiries about Marc Pardo. Well, at least the signal was coming from the address I'd tracked. I planned to stakeout the location before making my presence known.

Sometimes, people clam up when they see me. I don't know why. I'm a friendly likeable guy. Just because I look like I could rip the head off a rhinoceros doesn't mean I'd actually do it. Though the intimidation factor does come in handy at times. Opening the door and finding a 6' 6", 300 pound black guy on your doorstep glaring down at you can be a little frightening to some people, making my job as a fugitive apprehension agent much easier.

But today, I wasn't a bounty hunter. I was a private detective on surveillance looking for the person who was trying to uncover information about Ranger's alias. It was the first solid clue we'd had about Ranger since he'd gone MIA. I couldn't let it slip through my fingers.

I arrived at the location late afternoon. The building I was looking for turned out to be an historic row house. The home was three stories high and was painted every color of the rainbow. The other houses on the street were painted a couple of different colors, but this was the only house on 'steroids.'

The narrow street was lined with expensive residences packed close together making it not very conducive to a long-term stakeout, especially when you're a black man in an all-white neighborhood. If I sat out on the street in my SUV, a neighbor would surely call the cops on me. So, I did the next best thing.

Parking at the end of the street, I walked up to the house and knocked on the front door. No one answered. I let myself in and quickly closed the door behind me. Silence greeted me, which was a good sign. I'd done a rushed search on the owner of the row house and discovered the owner was a single woman named Illiana Parduhn, who worked at a pharmaceuticals company in town. I figured I had at least an hour before she'd arrive home, if she left work at 5 p.m.

Searching the ground floor, I checked the garage (empty) and the adjoining bedroom suite. A man was using the room, but there were no personal effects of any kind. The clothing was standard blue-collar work clothes. I went through the rest of the house and it was obvious that only the woman lived upstairs. On the mantle, there were pictures of the woman (damn fine good looking broad, too) with what were probably her parents and maybe her grandmother. There were also pictures of her in the jungle flanked by several natives.

I found the laptop on the dining room table. I was lucky. The computer had been left in sleep mode, so I didn't need to hack into it. A quick review of its browser history showed that this was the computer that had been used to search for information regarding Marc Pardo. I looked through the most recent documents on the hard drive and found mostly business plans, lab reports and correspondence. I worked my way through the stored emails and most were work related.

There were also quite a few emails from two different groups: Survival International and Andines Native Arts. The gist I got from the emails was that this Parduhn woman was working with these groups to help tribes in South America become more financially independent through the sale of their artwork, as well as have a political voice in their future. Both noble causes.

If I was looking for some connection between this Illiana and Ranger, this could be it. Maybe she saw Ranger, using his alias, in South America? A brief memory flashed through my mind of Stephanie wanting to search for Ranger in one of the local tribal villages near the uranium mine. Could her hunch have been right? _Damn!_ Steph and her oddball hunches were becoming as reliable as the sun rising every morning.

I went through the house again, but found nothing out of the ordinary so I read some of the reports on the laptop. This lady was really dedicated to her job. To top it off, she didn't come home until late evening. Upon hearing the garage door rise, I arranged the laptop as I'd found it and walked into the kitchen to wait for her. I needed to find out how she knew Ranger and why she was searching for information about him.

I could hear her steps on the stairs; they were slow and heavy made by someone tired or depressed. A young woman I assumed to be Illiana Parduhn dropped her bags and coat on the dining room table and then came into the kitchen. When she saw me leaning against the counter, sipping a glass of wine, she gave one short but loud scream and turned to run from the room.

Trying to keep my normally gravelly (and some say threatening) voice low and calm, I spoke out, "I'm here about Marc Pardo." That stopped her in her tracks.

The look on her face as she turned back was priceless. "What about Marc Pardo?" she asked, facing me full on, but coming no closer.

"Why are you so interested in him?" I asked, filling a second glass of wine and extending it out to her.

She countered, "_Who are you_ and how did you get in my house?" I watched her step backward until her butt hit the dining table. Reaching behind her, she grabbed her purse and brought it forward. When she took her hand out of her bag, it had a cell phone in it. I smiled to myself. If I wanted to stop her, I could have the phone out of her hand and have her helpless in my grip before she could even dial 9.

I sighed and set the second glass back on the counter. "I'm only here for information. I let myself in because I didn't want your neighbors to worry about a strange black man sitting on your doorstep." I tried to smile, to put her at ease, but I think I only succeeded in making her more nervous. I decided on the truth. "I know Marc Pardo, and I was curious when I realized someone was searching the Internet for him," I pointed to the laptop, "using that computer."

"How do you know that? And _who the hell are you?_" She flipped open her phone.

Would she really call the police? Based on my gut, I figured she was what she appeared to be, a businesswoman, not a spy. I also detected a personal interest in Ranger, which I could use to my advantage.

I needed to reassure her a bit. "If I tell you who I am, will you tell me how you know Marc?" I could see her mind working. She gave a slight nod.

"I'm a friend of Marc's and he's been… out of touch. I'm worried about him."

Her eyes narrowed as she looked intently at me, clearly trying to figure out if I was on the up and up. When she spoke, there was a ring of truth in it, but she was also holding something back. "I met Marc in South America."

I was right. "Is he still in South America?"

"Look, you really haven't told me who you are and why you broke into my house. And helped yourself to my wine," she said huffily.

I held out the second glass again and this time she took it. She maintained eye contact with me and took a small sip of wine, probably wondering if I put something in it. I swung my leg over and sat on one of the bar stools lined up against the kitchen counter.

Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out a couple of photos and laid them on the counter. I'd brought these just in case I needed to show someone a picture of Ranger. Illiana overcame her distrust of me and moved closer. She stretched her neck out and looked at the pictures. One was of Ranger dressed all in black and standing next to a black SUV. The other picture was of Ranger and me in fatigues when we served together in the Army Rangers. She picked up the one of both of us and studied it for awhile. I could tell by the way her eyes softened, she really did know Ranger and she had a soft spot for him.

"When was this taken?" she asked in a much softer voice.

I stepped over to the fridge and grabbed the platter I'd prepared earlier. It held a variety of cheeses, crackers and a sliced apple. I set it on the counter between us and took a cracker and topped it with a slice of cheese. "About ten years ago." I popped the cracker into my mouth.

Illiana snorted and shook her head. "Well, just make yourself at home," she quipped with a sarcastic tone. She took a slice of apple and bit into it. "What should I call you?" she asked, chewing as she talked.

"My friends call me Tank." I continued to eat from the platter. It was way past my dinnertime.

"How appropriate!" She tapped the photo in her hand. "Is his name really Marc Pardo?"

"Yes." When in doubt of whom you are dealing with, stick to your story.

"He's here," she declared.

_What?_ I lowered the cracker and stared at her. Ranger was in San Francisco and he hadn't contacted me? What was going on? I repeated, "He's here? In San Francisco?"

Illiana nodded and finished the rest of her apple. "Marc's living here with me. He's at work right now."

The man downstairs! With the closet full of blue chambray and plaid shirts and denim jeans. God, Ranger must be deep undercover.

"Where does he work?" I asked.

She smiled. "During the day, he works in the warehouse at my family's business and at night, he works as the security guard there."

"I'll be damned. When does he get off?" I couldn't wait to get my hands on that bastard, worrying me and his family, not contacting me all these months.

"He's usually home by 4 a.m. He sleeps for a few hours and then he's back at work by 8:30 for his day job."

"Not much down time, is there?"

Illiana sighed and shook her head. "He has the weekends off. He's trying to pay me back. I told him he doesn't need to, but he can be really driven."

No shit! I'd known Ranger for more than 15 years now and I'd never met anyone so focused on the goal, no matter what it was. "Pay you back? He owes you money?" That _didn't_ sound like Ranger.

"We had to get him back into the United States without a passport. It took money to pay a smuggler to get him across the border. _That_ turned out to be a near fatal mistake. But he's home now and he'll be thrilled to see you, if..." Illiana inhaled deeply and looked away for a moment.

"If what?" I asked, getting a weird twinge in my stomach. Is this what Steph's spidey sense felt like?

"There's something you need to know, Tank." She chewed on her lower lip a while before continuing. "He may not remember you."

"What? Why?" I asked, my brain churning trying to figure out what she meant.

"Marc was injured in South America and… he doesn't remember much about his past."

"What do you mean, he doesn't remember much? Just how much doesn't he remember?" Was this some ploy Ranger was using or could he truly not remember?

"Everything. Marc can't remember anything of his past, nothing before the mine explosion." Her eyes widened and she covered her mouth as if she'd revealed too much.

Fuck! _Did Ranger have amnesia?_ That would explain so much. I needed to get to him before the wrong person found out who he really was.

I reassured her. "I know about the mine explosion. I know he was injured. My friends and I went down to Venezuela looking for him right after it happened, but there was no sign of him."

"That's because my cousin found him and took him to his village – it's very remote. That's where I met Marc. It's my father's village. I go down several times a year to visit family and collect plants for my company's research labs." She saw my look of confusion and misinterpreted it, so she clarified her comments. "We've been studying rainforest plants for several decades now and have discovered some amazing cures developed from these natural sources." She gave me a sheepish grin and took a sip of wine.

"But, back to Marc. My uncle, who is the tribal leader, took Marc under his wing and treated him like family. When I met him, he'd recovered from his wounds. He couldn't remember anything beyond living with my family's tribe, but he was becoming restless. It's a pretty simple life down there. We talked a lot and the more I told him about life outside the rainforest the more restless he became. Just before I was to return to the States, Marc asked me to take him with me. He felt strongly that he was from the U.S., but he still couldn't remember anything. Even the name he chose seemed more like a whim than a memory. He's been searching for clues to his identity and past since he returned." She glanced over at the laptop. "I think he was ready to hire a private investigator, since he wasn't getting anywhere on his own."

"Well, there's no need to do that now. I can help him with any questions he has." I downed the last of my wine and stood up. "I'd like to see him as soon as possible."

"If you're finished scarfing down my food and wine, I'll take you to him," she said with a smirk.

Pax's POV

Trying to get a flight out of DC on the spur of the moment for five people was next to impossible. Everything was overbooked. We finally got the team to San Francisco but on different flights, which meant the first few guys in had to wait at the airport for the last guy to arrive.

There'd still been no word from Stephanie and it was now Monday afternoon. I was really getting worried about her. I'd left umpteen messages on her phone without results. Well, she'd be disappointed to miss out on the actual raid for Sudden Death II, especially since it'd been her hard work that had led us here.

Working with the federal prosecutor, I'd been able to offer Mario Rodriguez a deal if he gave up his drug source. He'd still serve a life sentence, but the death penalty was now off the table. Rodriguez finally confessed that he'd received all his heroin and other drugs from Samuel Crisco, the plant manager at Barnes & Nobel. Yeah, the 'big man' was Sam Crisco from San Francisco. Life was stranger than fiction at times.

We met with the San Francisco SWAT team and worked out a plan of attack for hitting Crisco's home. What we found when we arrived at the house surprised us. Crisco lived in an upscale suburban area of the city with his wife and three children. We burst into the house at bath time for the children causing a considerable uproar among the family members.

We knew we had the right guy when we searched the house. The garage was filled with cartons of the drugs we were looking for: thousands of pounds of heroin, cocaine and marijuana, all neatly bundled and ready for distribution. We'd have to wait until the drugs were tested to determine if they contained the toxin we were looking for.

We cuffed Crisco and took he and his family to the police station for questioning. The children were innocent of any wrongdoing and it was obvious his wife knew nothing of her husband's drug dealings. They were released, but couldn't return home because the house was still considered a crime scene.

Even Crisco himself seemed confused by the violent arrest of having a SWAT team break into his home at night. He insisted he didn't know the cartons contained illegal drugs. He said he was told the cartons were a special order of prescription drugs made for the company's free clinics. He'd been told the donations of drugs needed to be kept off the company's records because, technically, the free clinics did not dispense prescription drugs. Crisco agreed to distribute the needed supplies because he felt the good cause outweighed the arbitrary policies in place. None of us believed him.

It didn't take long for Crisco to rat out the kingpin in all this – none other than the president of Barnes & Nobel himself, Andrew Barnes.

It took us a couple of hours to convince the federal judge on call in California to add Andrew Barnes' residence and business to the search warrant. My team, along with the SWAT team, immediately headed for Barnes' home as soon as we had the new search warrant. Even though it was quite late, Barnes wasn't at home, but we searched the house and confiscated his files and computer. We didn't find any contraband drugs. We moved on to the pharmaceutical complex.

As I drove us over to Barnes & Nobel Pharmaceuticals, my team started going through Barnes' personal files. I'd brought Marion with us so that we'd have someone who could understand any technical stuff we might need to decipher. She started reading out loud certain passages of internal memos sent from R&D lab assistants to Barnes. There was no one cc'd on the memos.

Marion began, "This first memo is dated fifteen years ago: 'The spore-bearing Gastromycetes under observation is from the order Basidiomycota, genus Schleroderma, and grows in atypical mycorrhizal environments'…"

"Marion, _please_, give it to us in terms we can understand. Boil it down," I asked.

"OK. Basically the early memos identify the type of mushroom as a form of Earth Ball, a poisonous mushroom found worldwide. The species they've been studying, though, seems to have some unusual properties."

Marion was silent for a few minutes as she skimmed a number of pages. "The researchers quickly determined the spores in these particular Earth Balls, which they called 'bolas de muerte' or balls of death, are fatal if ingested or injected in large doses and, in smaller doses, can inhibit pregnancy. They suggest the spores be studied as a possible 'morning after' pill. And then…" She gasped and flipped through several more pages, gasping several more times.

"Omigod! After several years of study, AND tests on unsuspecting subjects, they discovered that minute quantities of the spores given orally over time _render people sterile_. The conclusion by one of the researchers is that all medical use of the spores stop due to this serious side effect." Marion was silent as she continued to read.

When she finally spoke, her voice was low and ominous, "There are handwritten notes in the margins of that memo that mention putting the spores in another medium such as encapsulated vitamins and giving them to 'the brown scum.' Marion looked around at the team, comprehension dawning on her face. "This guy's a monster…a covert Hitler using deadly mushroom spores instead of gas chambers."

John spoke up, "Don't tell me Stephanie was right about that? The guy we're looking for really is a genocide freak? C'mon… what are the odds?"

I barked out a laugh, though I wasn't feeling very humorous, "Long shot or not, John, you're going to have to suck it up and apologize to Stephanie. And get used to eating crow. You're also gonna be choking on Steph's dust, 'cause she'll be a hot commodity after this case breaks. It's _her_ leads we followed and I'll make sure everyone knows it."

John leaned back and let his head roll onto the back of the seat and gave a low moan, as well as a muttered, "_Fuck!_" The rest of the team grinned, but kept quiet. They still had a lot of hard and potentially dangerous work ahead of them tonight.

Marion continued to pore over the files we'd confiscated from Barnes' home. She was getting angrier and angrier. "He has notes in here that describe his plans to poison _baby formula_ and sell it in South America at half what it costs to produce. No struggling family, no mother would be able to resist that kind of deal." She looked over at me, "Tell me we're going to put away this psycho forever?"

My sentiments exactly. "We're certainly going to do our best, Marion. We do this by the book, team. I don't want to lose this case on a technicality. And, let's be careful out there."

Marc's POV

Tonight was not going the way I'd planned. I was a little disgruntled when it became apparent that a substantial contingent of B&N employees would be working overtime tonight. There'd been a mechanical failure in the manufacturing plant earlier in the day stopping all production and a deadline loomed to produce an order of cancer fighting drugs for shipment overseas. Barnes had asked for volunteers to stay late to complete the order.

It meant I had to postpone my search for evidence that Barnes was doing something illegal. It wasn't until after midnight when employees started filtering out from the plant. I spent over two hours manning the gates letting tired workers out so they could finally go home and get some well-deserved rest.

In between bursts of activity at the exit gate, I let my mind wander. The long days and even longer nights were finally catching up to me. The radio in the guard's station was playing oldies and the easy listening tunes were relaxing me, to say the least. I may have even dozed off for a split second.

Ever since Friday, her face kept floating through my mind. It was wreathed in dark clouds so I couldn't see her features very clearly, but she had blue eyes, eyes I'll never forget, eyes I keep searching for in every woman I see. It's as if she's always been with me, even though I can't remember her.

[Song playing on the radio was '_How Can I Tell You'_ by Cat Stevens.]

_How can I tell you that I love you, I love you_

_But I can't think of right words to say_

_I long to tell you that I'm always thinking of you_

_I'm always thinking of you, but my words_

_Just blow away, just blow away_

_It always ends up to one thing, honey_

_And I can't think of right words to say_

_Wherever I am, girl, I'm always walking with you_

_I'm always walking with you, but I look and you're not there_

_Whoever I'm with, I'm always, always talking to you_

_I'm always talking to you, and I'm sad that_

_You can't hear, sad that you can't hear_

_It always ends up to one thing, honey,_

_When I look and you're not there_

_I need to know you, need to feel my arms around you_

_Feel my arms around you, like a sea around a shore_

_And - each night and day I pray, in hope_

_That I might find you, in hope that I might_

_Find you, because heart's can do no more_

_It always ends up to one thing, honey, still I kneel upon the floor_

_How can I tell you that I love you, I love you_

_But I can't think of right words to say_

_I long to tell you that I'm always thinking of you_

_I'm always thinking of you..._

_It always ends up to one thing, honey_

_And I can't think of right words to say_

I woke with a start and was left with an empty sense of longing for something… someone… I couldn't even remember, but someone who had my heart.

I locked the gates as the last group of workers filed out. I now only had a couple of hours to search Barnes' office for the proof I needed to nail him.

Stephanie's POV

I was exhausted. And I stank big time. I'd been wearing the same awful camo clothes since Friday night and it was now Monday night. Well, technically it was Tuesday morning.

The ancient plane managed to get us safely to South America and back. We landed at a small airport about 30 miles northeast of San Francisco, trying to stay under everyone's radar. At this time of the night it wasn't hard to avoid being noticed.

Delgado asked Gunner to drive me into the city. He asked if I was going to fly immediately back to DC or stay overnight to get cleaned up and get a good night's sleep. Of course, I opted for the latter. All I could think of was seeing Ranger again, though that thought might preclude me getting a 'good night's sleep.'

Delgado and Tiburon bundled up Cuchillo for the drive to Travis Air Force Base for medical treatment and debriefing. I wished Cuchillo well and left with Gunner.

It was the middle of the night, and as much as I wanted to rush to find Ranger, I knew that wouldn't be wise. I planned to visit Barnes & Nobel first thing in the morning, since Illiana had said he worked there, too. Would he recognize me? Please God, let him know who I am.

Forty minutes later, Gunner dropped me off at the same hotel I'd stayed at just a few days ago. I checked in with a suitcase full of very wrinkled business suits. Two minutes later, I was standing under a spray of very hot water feeling every muscle of my body relax for the first time in four days.

After slipping into my black RangeMan t-shirt and a pair of cotton PJ bottoms, I took the clothes, even my underwear, that I'd been wearing all weekend and put them in the wastebasket and put the wastebasket outside my hotel door. I never wanted to see or smell them again.

Just before I shut the door, I did a mental head slap and remembered the two implants in my shirt pockets. Gingerly, I plucked the stinky shirt out of the trashcan and retrieved the little white capsules. I kicked the wastebasket away from the door and hung the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the doorknob. After tucking the capsules away in my handbag, I dropped thankfully onto a turned down bed. No mint on the pillow, though. I should have stayed at the place that gives you chocolate chip cookies. Darn! Now I was hungry.

Before I let myself finally get some sleep, I checked my phone messages. I hadn't touched my phone for four days under threat of serious harm by Delgado. Looking at the queue of messages exhausted me even further and I pulled the covers up around me. There were 47 voice messages. Scrolling through them I saw that most were from Tank and Pax, with a few from Mom and Grandma, and there was even one from Marion.

I listened to the last one from Pax and it was just a tirade of 'Where the hell are you? Call me.' I jumped to the first message and then was so intrigued by Pax's revelation about new information on the case that I continued to listen to the next few messages. _Omigod!_ Pax and the team were coming to San Francisco to arrest that nasty plant manager who worked for Barnes. I knew there was something fishy about him.

I listened to the last few messages and… _Crap!_ These were from earlier tonight and Pax and the team were already in town. They'd arrested the plant manager and now they were going to search the Barnes & Nobel offices. I was missing out on the culmination of my own case. _Crappity, crap, crap, crap!_

I leapt out of bed and tore through my suitcase for something suitable to wear. The best I could do was a tailored charcoal gray wool jacket and matching slacks. I kept on the black t-shirt. There wasn't much I could do with my hair on such short notice so I pulled it into a ponytail.

I called for a cab and raced downstairs. There was no way I was going to sleep through my first major DEA raid.


	32. Chapter 32 The Raid's a BustI'm Home

**Chapter 32 — Part 1: The Raid's A Bust**

_Betrayal can only happen if you love._

_AN: This is the chapter everyone's been waiting for. I was going to post it in two separate parts, but realized that might be considered cruel and unusual punishment by those of you that have been faithfully reading and reviewing this story. So, in grateful appreciation, I am posting the two parts all at once._

. . .

With the last of the overtime workers escorted off the premises, I was finally able to make my way upstairs to Barnes' penthouse office. I went straight to his desk, and took out the tools I'd purchased over the weekend. I'd practiced opening every locked door and drawer in Illiana's house. It felt like I'd been doing it all my life.

I had Barnes' desk drawers open in no time and started going through the files, keeping an ear out for the elevator just in case.

. . .

Illiana and Tank arrived at Barnes & Nobel to find it quiet and the gates locked. Illiana got out and unlocked the gate as Tank drove his rented vehicle onto the property. Illiana closed the gate but left it unlocked to make it easier when they all left together: she, Marc and Tank. She directed Tank to park between the warehouse and the manufacturing plant, where she hoped to find Marc patrolling one of the buildings. Instead, they found Andrew Barnes departing the manufacturing plant.

"Illiana, what are you doing here in the middle of the night? And who is that with you?" Barnes demanded brusquely, clearly not pleased to see either his granddaughter or the big black man with her.

"I have such exciting news, Grandfather. Do you remember I told you Marc was unable to remember anything from his past? Well, this is his best friend…" She turned to Tank. "What is your real name? It seems odd to introduce you just as Tank."

"It's what everyone but my mother calls me. It's nice to meet you, sir." Tank extended his hand, but Barnes just stared at him and kept his hands at his side.

Illiana seemed not to notice and went on talking excitedly. "Tank is here to help Marc regain his memory. And to ease your mind, Grandfather, Marc is definitely a U.S. citizen, born and raised in the good ole USA. He even served in the Army Rangers. I know you aren't fond of foreigners, but Marc is a bona fide American. By the way, where is he? I can't wait to see his face when we tell him the good news."

Barnes hesitated before speaking. "I think Pardo is in the warehouse." He pointed out the large building to Tank. "You should be able to find him there, or maybe patrolling the fence line."

He reached out and held Illiana's arm as she turned to go. "Illiana, the emergency shipment we had to get out tonight had some problems. I need your assistance in clearing it up before the morning shift arrives. We need to make some arrangements and phone calls now. Come to the office with me."

"But Grandfather, I need to be with Marc when he and Tank meet," she pleaded.

"I think Mr. Tank can handle himself, especially if he's _such good friends_ with Pardo." Barnes tightened his grip on Illiana's arm, "This won't take long," and dragged her away toward the office building.

Calling over her shoulder, she asked Tank, "Please, bring Marc up to the fourth floor. I want to share this wonderful time with him. He's going to be so happy to know who he really is." And then she reluctantly left with her grandfather, while Tank moved off toward the warehouse, letting the disgust he felt at Barnes' disrespectful brush off and treatment of Illiana finally show in his face.

Barnes unlocked the back door to the office building and pulled Illiana over to the glass elevator. As the door slid shut, Barnes said, "Well, granddaughter, looks like we're going to have to hire a new night watchman."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Once Pardo remembers his past, he's going to return to it. He probably has a wife and a passel of pickaninnies. Certainly he has a life to go back to. You didn't think he'd stay here doing manual labor and shacking up with you forever, did you? Though that would be par for the course, for someone like him to mooch off a woman."

"Grandfather, don't be cruel. Marc is the hardest working man I know and he cares for me. We just need more time together, and now that he'll finally be able to put his search for his past behind him, we'll have that time," she said, though she wondered if she was trying to convince the old man or herself. Marc was someone who kept his thoughts and feelings to himself, but she knew he was fond of her. He treated her with respect and consideration, like her father had treated her mother. She told herself the passion would come once Marc could relax and settle down.

. . .

When Stephanie arrived at the B&N gate she saw it was unlocked. She paid off the taxi and walked through the gate. The lights were on in both the ground floor and fourth floor of the office building and she assumed Pax and the team were already inside. She arrived at the back door just as Barnes and Illiana were getting into the elevator.

Determined to confront Illiana with the news about the toxin and about Ranger, she ran to the stairs hoping to catch up to her before Pax found her. She had a few choice words for that bitch. Steph assumed Pax or some of the team were already searching the upstairs offices, so she'd have the requisite back up. She knew she didn't have her usual gear or weapons on her, but she was too eager to find Ranger to wait any longer.

. . .

I heard the elevator rising and knew I didn't have time to straighten the desk and get out of Barnes' office before whoever was on it got off. I quickly straightened up the files in the drawers and the top of the desk and went to stand at the window that looked out on the bay. At this time of night, there were very few boats on the water, but those that were out had their lights on making for an attractive scene. I'd just pretend to be admiring the view.

. . .

Barnes and Illiana had nearly reached the outer office. They were in the middle of an argument with their voices raised.

"You little fool. That sorry excuse for a man is not for you. The faster he's out of our lives, the better."

"I don't understand? Why do you dislike him so much?" Illiana asked.

Barnes replied, "You have to ask that? He's one of **them**. The brown scourge of the earth. They're like diseased rats, overrunning our world and contaminating it with their inferior blood. They all need to be eradicated."

"Grandfather! How can you say that? Your wife and daughter – my mother and grandmother spent their lives helping those people…"

"And those so-called_ people _killed them! For that alone, they should all _die_."

"Grandfather!" Illiana cried, in complete shock. She backed away from Barnes unable to believe what she was hearing. She'd known he was prejudiced against people of color, but he'd always kept it in check. But tonight…

At that moment, Stephanie came bursting out of the stairwell door, barreling straight for Illiana. Still in shock from her grandfather's hateful words, Illiana didn't resist until Stephanie pinned her arms behind her back.

Angry over the misery and death she thought Illiana had caused, Stephanie let loose. "You're a really sick woman, Illiana Parduhn. You disgust me. How long did you think you'd get away with it? Did you think you could just go on murdering anyone you wanted to?"

"_What_ _murder? _What are you talking about? And what are you doing here?" Illiana struggled uselessly against a very motivated and angry Stephanie. "_Let go of me!_"

"Not a chance. Answer me this… Why? Why did you target minorities? You're half Latina yourself?" Stephanie asked the dark-skinned woman she had pinned against the hall wall.

"What's my ethnicity got to do with anything? _Let go of my arm_. Grandfather, do something!" Illiana cried out.

"Seems you've gotten yourself and our company in a bit of a pickle, Illiana. That is quite unforgivable. I suggest you cooperate with Ms. Plum." Barnes leaned against the railing, seeming to enjoy watching the two women tussle with each other in the hallway.

Stephanie noticed Barnes' relaxed stance and wondered why he wasn't coming to his granddaughter's defense, at least verbally. She also kept looking around for any of her team members. Her tingling neck was distracting her, but she also knew better than to ignore her 'spidey sense.' Something was triggering her unease with the situation. She moved Illiana and herself further away from Barnes, just in case, and proceeded to explain to Illiana her crime.

"For years, people, mainly people of color, who lived along the eastern seaboard have been dying from using heroin purposely tainted with a mystery toxin. We traced that toxin to your company." Steph glanced over at Barnes again. He seemed unsurprised, but still non-threatening.

Illiana stopped struggling. "I _really_ don't know what you're talking about. Our company doesn't deal with opiates like heroin, or even medical grade opiates like morphine."

Steph replied, "Maybe it isn't on your formulary, but you definitely deal in heroin. And the toxin you sprinkle in it isn't just your everyday toxin. This poisonous baby is from a mushroom that only grows in the Amazon rainforest. And don't you dare deny that you know nothing about Amazon mushrooms. I've talked to your uncle and he confirms you pick them up several times a year when you visit his village."

Still stunned by Stephanie's physical attack on her and trying to process her accusations, Illiana said, "You've talked to my uncle? How…?" She shook her head, wondering how Stephanie could possibly know her uncle. "Of course, I know about the mushrooms, but I only get those mushrooms for my grand… father…"

Illiana turned her head as much as she could, trying to see Barnes. "_¡Madre de Dios! You?_ You used the spores to… _to kill people?_ _How could you?_ We _save_ lives…" Her face was a study in contrasts: confusion, fear, comprehension, revulsion, and then anger.

Still holding on to Illiana, Steph turned so that both of them were facing Barnes. Anyone looking at her could see the gears turning in her mind, putting two and two together. Steph also kept twisting her neck against her shoulders as if trying to scratch an itch. Both women appeared too shocked and angry to say anything.

Barnes shook his head, finally speaking out, "We save the _right_ lives. The others aren't worth saving." He sneered at his granddaughter, "But you… you're an abomination that your filthy brown scum of a father perpetrated upon my beautiful fair-skinned daughter."

Illiana gasped. It was clearly the first time she'd heard her grandfather use such blatant derogatory language aimed at her. Stephanie released her and looked around the hallway as if waiting for someone to appear.

The old man continued, "After those filthy, disgusting bastards you call _family_ murdered my wife and then my daughter, I knew I had to do something to put a stop to them before they populated the entire world with their brown papooses. And I thought it was fitting to use their own 'medicines' against them." A sinister grin spread across his face and his hand moved behind his back.

"My dear Mary discovered the deadly power of those spores and I discovered their full potential. Given in small doses early enough in a child's life renders both boys and girls sterile. You, my _half-breed_ granddaughter, were my first test case." He paused for effect, enjoying the horror that filled Illiana's face.

"I started with the vitamins, yes… the very ones you personally delivered to your precious free clinics. But they were too slow and didn't reach enough of the little vermin. But infant formula… that's brilliant and works within a few short months on the still forming systems of babies. It's the perfect genocide drug. Millions of little brown beaners will be sterilized before the effects are discovered, which won't happen for many, many years."

Illiana looked sick. "I can't believe this! You'll never get away with it. I'll make sure you don't. Besides, you'd have to have enough of the spores and you'll never get them."

"Oh, you stupid cow. I've finally synthesized those wonderful little balls of death. I can make all I want. Of course, now I'll need another patsy to head up my international division and get that baby formula into the hands of those that killed my beloved wife and daughter."

Illiana lunged at Barnes and hit him several times in the chest with her fists before he grabbed her and held her in a chokehold with his arm across her neck and her back to his chest.

Stephanie moved to help Illiana. That's when Barnes lifted his other hand and pointed a gun at Stephanie. "As for you, my dear Ms. Plum… I regret the necessity of doing this…" The next thing she heard was the loud crack of a gun being fired.

**Chapter 32— Part 2: I'm Home**

_You put your arms around me and I'm home._

_AN: Stephanie has this glorious image in her mind for this meeting, and Ranger/Marc has no image, and in fact no knowledge that this meeting is about to occur or awareness of its importance. How could this possibly turn out well? To get the full effect of this chapter, I suggest listening to the song "Arms" by Christina Perri. Thank you, LoveTheWizard, for suggesting it._

. . .

A dark shape jumped between Stephanie and Barnes just as his gun went off. The shape was a man who continued his lunge toward Andrew Barnes as Barnes shoved Illiana into Stephanie, knocking the two women to the floor.

The man tackled Barnes and the gun went off twice more as the men fought. Steph pushed Illiana away from her and quickly got to her feet. Without even looking, she knew the man that had saved her was Ranger. Her neck was tingling and her heart was beating a mile a minute and it wasn't just from fear.

Stephanie rushed to help Ranger, but then watched in horror as the two fighting men fell over the railing. Her cry of 'Ranger' reverberated across the open atrium as she flew to the balustrade and looked four stories down.

The first thing she saw was Barnes' lifeless body sprawled at the bottom of the atrium. Then she saw movement at the back door as Pax, followed by his team, rushed in. Looking everywhere, frantically searching the ground for Ranger, she saw Pax raise his arm and point to a place just below her.

Leaning way out over the railing she caught sight of Ranger about fifteen feet below her holding on with one hand to a long woody vine. His other arm was hanging limp at his side, dripping blood.

Paralyzed with both fear and relief, Stephanie stared down at Ranger…so close and yet out of reach. It felt like their entire history together.

And then he looked up. Their eyes met. And she was home…

_How many times_

_will you let me change my mind and turn around_

_I can't decide_

_if I'll let you save my life or if I'll drown_

_You put your arms around me_

_And I believe that it's easier for you to let me go_

_You put your arms around me and I'm home_

_It was him!_ It was truly him. His hair was short, he had a new scar running across his jawline and he'd lost weight, but it was Ranger. They couldn't stop staring at each other.

Knowing he was too far away, but unable to resist, Stephanie reached out toward him and she could see him try to raise his left arm.

Then she felt Illiana at her side, leaning out over the railing. Steph heard her utter "Marc" in a panicked voice.

Stephanie's heart nearly broke. Was he reaching for her or for Illiana?

And then just one word, uttered by a man hanging on by a thread, changed everything.

. . .

I hung there, dangling out in open air, intense pain radiating through my left arm. The bullet must have struck my shoulder joint. I couldn't even raise it, let alone use it to help me climb up the few feet to safety. I knew my only chance of survival was maintaining my fragile hold on the woody vine.

Then I heard her voice… the woman from my dreams. I looked up and saw her looking down at me. It was her face, her blue eyes, wreathed in a cloud of dark curls. It seemed unreal. Maybe I was hallucinating; maybe I was already dead.

_The world is coming down on me_

_and I can't find a reason to be loved_

_I never wanna leave you_

_but I can't make you bleed if I'm alone_

She reached her arm toward me and I tried to touch her… _just… touch her…_

Then the vine jerked away from its anchor and I felt myself falling and in that moment a single word was torn from my throat...

"_Babe!"_

. . .

That one word went straight to her heart and Stephanie took off racing for the stairwell. She flung open the door and raced down the stairs, coming out on the third floor just behind Pax. They ran side by side to the point just above where the man they both knew as Ranger dangled. He was too far down to simply reach over and pull up. Under the added weight, the vine had separated from the bottom railing and was in danger of crashing to the floor with its precious hitchhiker.

Pax immediately climbed over the railing and lowered himself until he could get an arm around the dangling man's midriff. "I gotcha, Ranger. Hold on to me," Pax said. Without hesitating, the injured man let go of the life-saving vine and clung to Pax. Using his feet and one arm, Pax slowly worked his way back up to the third floor.

. . .

A blond man in a bulletproof vest clambered down the railing and the entwined vines toward me. The man had an intense look that was fixated on me; while I couldn't stop staring past him up toward the blue-eyed woman, as if in a dream. When the blond man reached me, he called me 'Ranger.' For some reason, I responded to that and knew I could trust him implicitly. As soon as he had his left arm around my torso, I let go of the vine and flung my right arm around the man's shoulders. I tried to help during the climb by putting my feet on exposed vines to bear the brunt of my weight. Slowly, we made our way back up.

I looked up and she was still there, reaching out her arms to me.

_I tried my best to never let you in to see the truth_

_And I've never opened up_

_I've never truly loved 'Till you put your arms around me_

_And I believe that it's easier for you to let me go_

_I hope that you see right through my walls_

_I hope that you catch me, 'cause I'm already falling_

_I'll never let a love get so close_

_You put your arms around me and I'm home_

When we reached the top, she wrapped her arms around me and pulled me over the edge of the railing, never letting go. We collapsed to the floor and clung to each other. I couldn't stop staring at her, in disbelief and wonderment.

_It was her!_ It was the woman in my dreams, the woman whose blue eyes haunted my every waking moment and who was the only thing that made going to sleep bearable.

_You put your arms around me_

_And I believe that it's easier for you to let me go_

_You put your arms around me and I'm home_

. . .

Unable to find Ranger anywhere in the fenced-in facility, Tank saw a Suburban come to a screeching halt in back of the office building. It was followed by two black panel vans. Tank was at the far end of the complex and started jogging over to the cars when he saw Pax and his team come piling out of the Suburban and a bunch of guys decked out in SWAT gear exit the other vehicles. They all quickly entered the office building.

By the time Tank reached the building's door, he was in time to see Pax climbing over the third floor railing above him to rescue a man dangling from a bunch of vines. It took Tank several seconds to realize the man in trouble was Ranger and that Steph was reaching over the railing toward the men.

The SWAT team had surrounded a man sprawled in the middle of a bunch of plants on the ground floor. The man was Barnes and he was obviously dead. Two of Pax's team were still on the ground floor and motioned Tank over. It didn't take long until Tank was up to speed on the raid. They gave him immediate clearance, and Tank raced up the stairs.

. . .

Pax sat next to Ranger/Marc and Steph, and the three of them leaned against the rails. All was quiet in that moment, although chaos was erupting on the ground floor and in the stairwell.

Still breathing hard from his exertions, Pax spoke first. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again, you old Army grunt, let alone be the one to save your sorry ass. I guess that makes us even. And by the way, what the fuck are you doing here in the middle of my case?" He nudged Ranger/Marc.

"Do I know you?" Marc stared at Pax, trying hard to remember.

"Of course you do. It's me, Pax…Pete Paxton. We served together on more missions than either of us care to remember. What's with you? Did you hit your head or something?"

"Or something," Marc muttered. "And I'd give anything to be able to remember." He shifted his weight and winced as his injured arm came in contact with the bottom rail.

Steph still had her arms wrapped around his torso. The warmth and weight of her body snuggled against him filled him with a joy and sense of peace that was new to him. He lifted her chin with his right hand until they were eye to eye. Hoping against hope, he asked, "Do you know me? Please, tell me that you know me?"

_It's just the strangest thing_

_I've seen your face somewhere_

_An early evening dream_

_A past life love affair_

_Do you know me? At all_

_Do you know me? At all_

_In all my reverie_

_I thought I felt us there_

_A feather in my hand_

_a flower in your hair_

_Do you know me? At all_

_Do you know me? At all_

_[Song: "Do You Know Me?" by John Mayer.]_

"Yes, I know you," she whispered. "You're the man who holds my heart."

Her hand moved to stroke the new scar along his jaw and then brush across his close-cropped hair. She stared in his eyes, looking for a spark of recognition. Time seemed to stand still. And then she saw it. He might not remember her name, but he knew he loved her and it showed in his eyes. That was enough for now.

Careful not to disturb his injured arm, Stephanie tightened her arms around him, placed her head on his shoulder and let the tears finally come. This time they were happy years.

_I never thought that you would be the one to hold my heart_

_But you came around and_

_you knocked me off the ground from the start_

_You put your arms around me_

_And I believe that it's easier for you to let me go_

_You put your arms around me and I'm home_

Marc held her with his one good arm while she cried and it seemed so natural, so right. There was a connection between them that was strong enough to be felt despite his amnesia. He breathed in her scent; there was no perfume, just her, and it aroused strong feelings in him. Stroking her hair, he let his fingers entwine in her soft curls. It felt so familiar. When she finally raised her head, he couldn't resist tucking a stray curl behind her ear, which caused her to grin.

Marc's mouth started to turn up at the corners until his smile encompassed his entire face, a full-on 200 watt smile. Even his eyes were smiling. They gazed into each other's eyes unaware of anything or anyone else around them.

_AN: Yes, in that moment, he was unaware of his surroundings._

. . .

Illiana had made her way down the stairs and joined the three leaning up against the rails. She saw the look Marc gave Stephanie. She knew that look and her heart broke. It was the look of a man in love. It was a look he'd never given her.

Pax watched the interplay between Ranger and Stephanie and knew he never had a chance with her. He also watched the expressions changing on Illiana's face and knew she was undergoing her own brand of hell. She was a beautiful woman. It was a shame to see her in such pain. Leaving the lovebirds alone, he got up and went over to Illiana and led her away.


	33. Chapter 33 You're Still You

**Chapter 33—You're Still You**

_And remember, no matter where you go, there you are._

AN: This post is just a short chapter to let you know I am still here and committed to finishing this story. I apologize for the delay in posting. My computer died a couple weeks ago and it took me awhile to get it replaced. Now, I am busily writing the last chapter (or maybe two). I will post as soon as they are finished. Thank you for hanging in there with me. At least my computer waited to go to cyber heaven until Ranger and Steph got together again.

The song is _"You're Still You"_ by Josh Groban. I highly recommend listening to it as you read this short chapter.

. . .

Only a minute or so had passed when Marc finally spoke, though he still couldn't take his eyes off the blue-eyed woman snuggled up next to him or move his arm from around her shoulders.

Everything had happened so quickly, he was still in a state of disbelief. "I feel like I've been waiting for this moment for an eternity. So, you _do_ know me?"

Stephanie gazed back at him and smiled, "Yep."

"That's a good start. I feel like I know you, too, but _I can't_ seem to remember." Marc finally looked away. "I can't remember anything of my life before I woke up ten months ago."

Stephanie tried to reassure him, "You have amnesia, but it's all going to get better now. You're back with friends and we'll help you remember."

Marc lifted his right arm and scratched the scar on the left side of his head. "The man who pulled me up… Pax? He seemed to know me. Is he one of those friends?"

Stephanie nodded. "He's a very good friend. You saved his life once and now, he's saved yours. That's got to count for something. Is any of this even a little bit familiar?"

Marc pondered her question. There was so much he had to relearn, but as long as this blue-eyed beauty was beside him, he was more than willing to do anything. It felt like he'd been waiting for her his entire life.

"The blond man, Pax, called me Ranger. That word, Ranger, triggers something in me." He gave her another 200 watt smile. "_As do you!_"

She'd told him that he held her heart. He knew she held his, but he didn't even know her name.

She beamed at him and struggled a little to hold back fresh tears. "So, you feel it too? The connection between us?"

For an answer he leaned down and brushed his lips across hers. The sensations coursing through him told him there was most definitely a connection between them. He went back for seconds and she didn't resist. A contentment filled him that he hadn't felt before. He leaned his forehead against hers and continued to breathe in her breath. He couldn't get enough of her, of being close to her.

She murmured, "Ranger," and waited for his response of 'Babe,' but it didn't come. That was probably expecting too much too soon. She turned a little so she could look him square in the face.

"I guess introductions are in order. Your name is Ranger. Well, it's really Ricardo Carlos Mañoso, but most people just call you Ranger because you served as an Army Ranger for years. You left the Rangers, but you do still work for the government sometimes. The rest of the time you run a security company called RangeMan in Trenton, New Jersey. Does any of that ring a bell?"

Marc shook his head. "Not really. _Ricardo?_ Are you sure? That definitely doesn't ring a bell."

"I think your family calls you Carlos and I think that's your preference, too."

"You think? Aren't we… weren't we… together? Wouldn't you know what my family calls me?"

Stephanie dropped her head. She wasn't quite sure how to answer that. How could she explain their relationship – make that their non-relationship – over the last five, no, six years now? She went with, "It's complicated." That was an understatement.

"Too complicated to explain? Will you at least tell me your name? I'd like to know the name of the woman who holds _my heart_." Again, another smile.

Steph almost stopped breathing. He admitted she held his heart. The way he looked at her, so open, so expressive, it nearly made her shatter into a thousand pieces. What she would have given for Ranger to look at her anytime over the past several years with that openness, that pure look of love. Who was this man? There was no blank face, no guardedness. This new Ranger was going to take some getting used to.

She took a deep breath and plunged ahead. "I understand you go by the name of Marc Pardo? Well… hello, Marc. My name's Stephanie… Stephanie Plum." She stopped short of telling him, 'but you always call me Babe,' hoping against hope he would remember.

He uttered her name more to himself than out loud. "_Stephanie_… I like it. It suits you."

He leaned his face close to her and whispered, "I'm going to complicate things even more." And then he kissed her. Not a soft light brush of the lips, but a hot searing, passion-filled kiss. He felt her melt into him and he couldn't resist. He kissed her again, this time with even more heat. He deepened their kiss and swept his tongue across her lips. When he felt her tongue touch his, he groaned and pulled her even closer.

For more than a year, Stephanie had longed for his touch, the sound of his voice, his unique scent. This was the Ranger Steph remembered. Sexy, confident and a fabulous kisser. Everything was going to be alright now. He was still Ranger, even if he couldn't remember.

_Through the darkness_

_I can see your light_

_And you will always shine_

_And I can feel your heart in mine_

_Your face I've memorized_

_I idolize just you_

_I look up to_

_Everything you are_

_In my eyes you do no wrong_

_I've loved you for so long_

_And after all is said and done_

_You're still you_

_After all_

_You're still you_

_You walk past me_

_I can feel your pain_

_Time changes everything_

_One truth always stays the same_

_You're still you_

_After all_

_You're still you_

_I look up to_

_Everything you are_

_In my eyes you do no wrong_

_And I believe in you_

_Although you never asked me to_

_I will remember you_

_And what life put you through_

_And in this cruel and lonely world_

_I found one love_

_You're still you_

_After all_

_You're still you_

**TBC**


	34. Chapter 34 I'm Marc Pardo Do I Know You

**Chapter 34—I'm Marc Pardo. Do I Know You?**

_Minor things can become moments of great revelation _

_when encountered for the first time._

Marc didn't stop kissing Stephanie until he felt someone looming over them. Immediately, his defenses went up and he tried to pull Stephanie behind him, but his injured arm made itself known with shooting pains. Keeping his face blank, Marc glared up at the big black man standing over them.

"_Jeez._ That's exactly what you two were doing the last time I saw you together," Tank complained as he stood over the entwined couple.

Marc saw that Stephanie was smiling and relaxed. Was this another 'friend' she'd mentioned? He looked up at the big man standing over him.

"I'm Marc Pardo. Do I know you?"

Tank frowned and stared down at his two friends who were sitting on the floor, still in a loose embrace. When he'd come through the stairwell door and saw them kissing, he hoped that meant all was right in the world and Ranger was 'back,' but his friend's self introduction and question threw him.

Squatting down in front of Ranger, Tank looked directly into his friend's eyes. At first he saw wariness and then Ranger's face relaxed, but there was no recognition in it. Tank knew every mood, every expression of his best friend, and this face, this look in his eyes was one he'd never seen. In that moment, Tank knew this was no act, no ploy; Ranger had no memory of who he was.

Setting his disappointment aside, Tank winked at Stephanie and turned back to Ranger. "You may not remember my name, but you sure as hell know me. I'm the man who knows where all your skeletons are buried and can tell you all the ways you've screwed up your life. And as for Marc Pardo, I know him better than you do. I created him."

That earned him a confused look from 'Marc'. "All in good time, old friend," Tank said.

Tank stood and offered Stephanie his hand and she let him help her up. He quipped, "I shouldn't be surprised to find you in the middle of all this." Then he chastised her, _"Where the hell have you been?"_

She ducked her head down and he gave her a big bear hug until she cried out, "I can't breathe, Tank."

He released her, but not before he whispered an apology. After talking with Illiana, he'd learned that Ranger _had been_ in the very village Steph had wanted to check out on their rushed trip to South America so many months ago. "I'm sorry, Steph. If I'd backed you up ten months ago, we could have brought Ranger home then." Steph gave him a surprised look. Tank wasn't one to use the word 'sorry' very often.

He then turned to Marc, who was still sitting on the floor leaning against the railing, and stuck out his hand. "I'm Tank." Marc grasped the big man's hand and let him pull him to his feet.

They stood facing one another, sizing each other up. Tank was looking at the changes the past year had wrought in his friend and Marc was gauging the mettle of the stranger in front of him.

Stephanie stood next to the two stoic men. "_Sheesh._ You guys are best friends and you, Tank… you thought Ranger was dead and all you can do is stare at each other. No hug, no complicated handshake, not even a 'nice to see you'? _Men!_"

Marc and Tank looked at her and then at each other, and then both men shrugged their shoulders. That slight movement elicited a wince and a sharp intake of air from Marc. That was enough for Stephanie.

"Tank, we need to get Ranger to a hospital. Barnes shot him. Actually, Ranger took the bullet…" Steph looked from Tank to Marc, "should I call you Ranger or Marc?" Marc's face remained blank and Steph looked back again to Tank. "Well, he took the bullet Barnes meant for me."

She reached up and kissed Marc lightly on the lips. "You even come to my rescue when you don't know who I am. At least that much hasn't changed."

With the adrenaline rush fading and the pain in his shoulder increasing, Marc let his weight rest against the railing. He concentrated on what Stephanie was saying, trying to read between the lines and see if any of what she said triggered any thoughts, any memories, but there was nothing. So, he'd come to her rescue before? What had she done that required rescuing? Who exactly was this vibrant, energetic woman standing next to him? He also wondered who exactly _he_ was, that rescued damsels in distress, blew up mines and couldn't help himself from investigating the suspicious actions of his employer.

It was strange to be around people who knew him before, who knew the man known as 'Ranger.' Marc knew so little about the man they said he once was. Over the last ten months, he'd experienced random thoughts and behaviors with no idea of where they came from. He knew that he felt compelled, when in a public place, to sit where he could see all means of ingress and egress. He seemed to have a number of skills, including martial arts, handling weapons and breaking and entering. At least he now knew why he'd kept searching for a woman with eyes a certain shade of blue. He reached out for Steph's hand, which she gladly gave him.

Tank watched his old friend try to hide the fact that his strength was waning. But he knew there were some things Marc needed to know. He interrupted Marc's internal conversation. "Before we take _'Marc'_ downstairs, he should know a few things."

Tank leaned over the railing and made a few hand gestures to someone below and then he disappeared for a moment into one of the adjacent offices before coming out with a chair.

"Sit," he glanced at Marc and then at the chair. Tank waited until Steph glared at Marc long enough to make the injured man relent and sit in the chair, his left arm hanging limply at his side, his right hand still holding Steph's hand.

Tank propped himself against the metal railing and fixed Marc with his gaze. "Things are going to get hot and heavy in a few minutes. The San Francisco SWAT team is downstairs and they'll want to question you. And then the feds will get in the game. It's important that you know the lay of the land."

Marc's brows furrowed as he absorbed what Tank was trying to tell him. He had wondered what he'd been involved in before the mine explosion. It looked like he was finally going to learn who he was and what he really did for a living.

"Before you got whacked in the head, you were a member of a covert military team trying to extract sensitive information for the government… the U.S. government, that is. Somewhere, locked in that brain of yours, you have information our government needs and that certain other governments want and will do anything to make sure you can't, and won't, tell anyone."

Marc frowned. Was this Tank, this 'friend' of his, telling him he was a spy? _¡Dios!_ It was worse than he imagined. But it would explain his unusual skill set and what he thought were just odd behaviors.

Tank saw the doubtful look in Marc's face. "Yeah… you're under contract with the U.S. to do their dirty work. And right now, the Venezuelan government would like you dead. As long as you were laying low, as Marc Pardo, you were safe. Now, all bets are off. You're involved in a suspicious death," Tank looked over the railing and glanced down at Barnes' sprawled and bloody body, "and the truth about your identity will come out."

Marc interrupted, "You mean, that I'm not Marc Pardo? That I'm this 'Ranger' character?"

"Yeah, that's what most of your friends and business associates call you, but your real name is Carlos Mañoso. However, you need to remain Marc Pardo to keep the Venezuelan government at bay," Tank continued, "Because this incident at Barnes & Nobel is a DEA raid, the feds will automatically be involved. We can produce documents that say you're Marc Pardo, but Pax knows who you really are and I'd hate to put him in a compromising situation."

Stephanie chimed in, "Someone else knows that Ranger is here, that Ranger is Marc."

"You mean Illiana? I think we can control that aspect," Tank said.

Steph shook her head. "No, I mean Delgado."

Tank and Marc rounded on Steph and said simultaneously, "Who?"

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It was hard to come to terms with the fact that Ranger remembered nothing… absolutely nothing, of his past. "Delgado was part of your team for that messed up mission where you were injured. He was one of two out of the original five team members that made it back to the States alive and on time."

She studied Marc's face for any sign of realization from him that some members of his team didn't make it back safely. What she saw was 'Ranger's' blank face. So, he still had the ability to hide his emotions when he chose.

She continued, "That's where I've been the last few days. I was with Delgado and another member of the team, Tiburon. Sorry, I don't know their real names. We flew down to Venezuela…"

"_What?_ You left the country and didn't tell me?" Tank turned a sharp penetrating gaze on Stephanie.

Steph rolled her eyes. "I didn't plan it, Tank, but when Delgado showed up at my hotel room Friday night I had to go."

Tank wasn't ready to let it go. "And that's another thing… why didn't you tell me, or at least tell Pax you were coming to San Francisco? That's part of being a team, Steph. To keep each other informed so we can back you up if needed." He glared at her, his anger barely suppressed.

Steph couldn't hold her gaze under Tank's withering glare and dropped her eyes to the ground. Crossing her arms across her chest, she explained, "I had a hunch, but this one was really strong and I just had to follow it. Everything turned out okay, didn't it?"

Both Tank and Marc saw her chin jut out defiantly, a telltale sign of her obstinate personality and her refusal to acknowledge any wrongdoing on her part. Tank couldn't help but smile inwardly. He knew her instincts were spot on and she was the one who'd managed to uncover the clues that solved the case. However, if she was going to work with a team, she needed to learn team etiquette. He made a mental note to continue this discussion with her later.

Sensing Tank's better mood, she turned back to Marc. "We went to Venezuela to find you and the fifth man-the one who disappeared; his nickname is Cuchillo. We found him…" Steph looked away and took a ragged breath, remembering the terrible physical shape Cuchillo had been in, "and brought him back. He'd been held prisoner by the Iranians all this time. He's at Travis Air Force Base right now."

Tank blew out a big breath of air and looked at Marc. "At least now everyone from your mission is accounted for. You should know that we went to Venezuela looking for you right after you were reported missing. We didn't find any trace of you, but we brought back the body of your partner. He'd been killed in the same mine explosion that took your memory."

Marc closed his eyes and gave his head a slight shake. In a quiet voice, saying the words more to himself, "Who am I? Some cold-blooded killer who blows up mines and leaves a dead partner behind?"

He looked at Tank. "I must not be very good at the spy game if I allow myself to be injured and leave my partner to die." He ran his hand through his close-cropped hair. "Thank you for bringing his body home. That should have been my responsibility."

"Don't beat yourself up. You lost your memory, _remember?_" The corners of Tank's mouth tipped up as he uttered the last sentence. Tank humor. Then the blank face slid back into place. "You're the best at what you do. From what I understand, the mission went like clockwork for three months. It didn't go FUBAR until the last minute, just before you were ready to leave the country."

Marc shook his head again. "What was my mission? Were we successful at all?"

"Two of your team members returned with their intel as planned. But, from what I've heard, the mission's success is still up in the air. A lot depends on your memory," Tank said.

Steph noticed Marc gave a slight head tilt and a barely audible pffft sound of disgust. She was used to Ranger rarely betraying any emotional response. Even though it was slight, Marc was giving clues to his thoughts and emotions. She didn't know how she felt about that. It was a little unnerving.

"If anyone is waiting for me to remember what happened in my past, they're going to have a long wait. I have no actual memories of anything before the mine explosion and I only know about the explosion because of what…" Marc paused for a few seconds, "people have told me."

Steph held Marc's right hand, rubbing her thumb over the back of it, wanting to maintain the connection they'd reestablished earlier and worried things might change when the entire truth came out. Marc's response was to give her hand a warm squeeze as he waited for her to speak.

"Ranger…Marc, before the guys rescued Cuchillo, we visited the village you lived in. I'd hoped to find you there, recovering from the mine explosion or maybe hiding out until the soldiers stopped searching for you." Both Marc and Tank straightened when Steph mentioned she'd visited the South American village. "I met Juan… and Joran and Yada. They told me all about rescuing you and your life there. Joran showed me all around. He even showed me that huge canoe you helped build. It's obvious he looks up to you."

Marc stared at Steph, trying to process the fact that this woman, this virtual stranger to him, had been looking for him all this time. She had even flown down to Venezuela to find him and had met the people who had saved his life and become like a family to him. His emotions were all over the place, but when he looked into her eyes he knew where his heart lay—where it had always resided.

After taking a deep breath Stephanie continued, "And that you left with… Illiana."

Steph dropped her head, afraid to look into his face, afraid of what she might see. Just moments ago, he'd seemed happy to be with her, but he'd been living with Illiana for months now. She lifted her head and glanced at Marc.

His face was a study of contrasts. One moment he was looking at her with love in his eyes and the next moment she could only see confusion and pain.

Biting her bottom lip, she hurriedly explained, "That's how I knew you were here. Well, I didn't know you were _here_ at Barnes & Nobel tonight, or is it morning by now?" She whipped her head around looking out the windows to the east. "But I knew you were here in San Francisco. Sorry, I'm rambling." Her heart was pounding. Had she found him just to lose him again?

Marc pulled his hand away and suddenly stood up. "Illiana… she must be devastated. I heard what you said to her and also what that bastard Barnes said to her. Where is she? Is she alright?" He turned toward the stairs and Tank grabbed his good shoulder.

He explained, "She's with Pax. She's upset, but she's fine. They're questioning her about the DEA case and how much she knew about what her grandfather was doing. I think they'll find she knew nothing about it."

Marc shook Tank's hand off. "_Of course_ she knew nothing about it. Illiana is incapable of such a heinous act."

Steph listened as Marc staunchly defended Illiana's character, her heart crumbling a bit.

Marc continued, "Barnes was a sick bigot who hated anyone who wasn't white. I knew he was involved in something illegal, but assumed it was dealing drugs. I never suspected how insidious his illegal activities were. But I know Illiana had nothing to do with her grandfather's inhuman schemes."

He turned to Stephanie. "You came here to arrest Illiana, didn't you?" Steph nodded and then flinched as his puzzled look became an angry one. "Why would you think _she_ was behind such horrific crimes? Did you have actual evidence against her or were you just searching?" He paused for a moment as he processed all he'd learned the last hour. "Were you the investigator from the DEA who was here on Friday?"

Steph nodded again. Internally, she was kicking herself. The proof she had against Illiana was all circumstantial. She'd reacted on her hunches without waiting until she had incontrovertible proof. She also let her insecurities and jealousy override her common sense. She thought Marc was mad at her because she'd wrongfully accused Illiana of the evil crimes Andrew Barnes was guilty of orchestrating. After his warm response to her – his words, his smiles, his kisses – Steph had temporarily forgotten that Illiana and Marc were lovers. A lump formed in her throat.

Taking a deep breath, Stephanie said, "If you need to go to her, _go_. She's got to be going through a tremendous ordeal right now and…"

Marc was already headed for the stairs.

Before he could reach the stairwell, the door was flung open and Delgado and four armed MPs burst into the hallway and strode directly toward Marc.


	35. Chapter 35 Good Things Come in Sm Pkgs

**Chapter 35—Good Things Come in Small Packages**

_You become a champion by fighting one more round. _

_When things are tough, you fight one more round._

AN: Special thanks to _VulcanRider_ and _sonomom_ for their suggestions regarding the last few chapters of this story. I never know when or where my inspiration will come from, but I'll take it whenever and wherever it is offered. If you think your reviews aren't appreciated by the writer, think again. Sometimes, they can provide just the motivation a writer needs to move forward with the story.

. . .

The four military police surrounded Marc as Delgado confronted him. "Carlos Mañoso, we're here to take you in for your post mission debriefing."

"No!" Stephanie cried as she dashed forward. "Delgado, don't do this…"

Delgado tensed and put his hand on his side holster while at the same motioning the MPs to close ranks around the man they were ordered to bring in.

Marc's body posture was rigid at first and then he seemed to relax and accept this new situation.

But Tank wasn't so accepting. He inserted himself between Delgado and the MPs, declaring, "You have the wrong man. This is Marc Pardo…"

Delgado didn't let him continue. He turned his steely gaze to Tank and stated, "We have the right man. We understand there may be a question surrounding Mañoso's memory or lack thereof, but our orders are to deliver him to his superiors so he can report on his mission." Tank drew himself up to his full height and glared back at the determined man in front of him.

Delgado countered and took a menacing step toward Tank, his fingers releasing the safety strap on his holster. Tank stepped back, but continued to press Delgado verbally.

"This man is a civilian and has rights to counsel. Where are you taking him?" Tank asked.

Delgado hesitated and then said, "Our orders are to take him to Travis Air Force Base." Tank knew they wouldn't keep him at Travis for very long. The military brass would want Ranger sequestered ASAP.

Steph ignored Delgado's show of force and defiantly got between Delgado and the MPs. "You can't take him. He's badly injured and needs to go to a hospital," she insisted.

Marc spoke up finally, trying to calm Stephanie. "It's alright. This is something I need to do. I need to get some answers myself."

Delgado turned his focus from Marc to Stephanie. "There's a hospital on base. He'll receive the proper medical care, but he's coming with us now. It's for his own safety, as well as required under his contract." He nodded to the MPs. The four burly men closed ranks and started moving Marc toward the elevator door.

Tank called out, "Marc, hang tight. We've got your back."

Marc looked back at Tank just before they shoved him into the elevator. "Take care of Illiana; help her through this, please. She has no one," he said. The guards pushed Marc into the small space and they all turned as one to face outward.

Surrounded by MPs, Marc looked up and caught Stephanie's eyes, which were filled with unshed tears. Without thinking, he started to move toward her. The two MPs in front tightened their formation and prevented any further forward movement. Desperate to console her, all Marc could do was hold her gaze. He didn't blink or waver, but there was a look of entreaty in his eyes, and then the elevator door slid shut.

Steph leaned into Tank and let herself collapse. One way or the other, she felt she'd lost Ranger again. She'd either lost him to Illiana or to the government. She started to sniffle and then sob. Tank grabbed her shoulders and shook her none too gently.

"Pull yourself together, Steph. Ranger needs us to be strong and aggressive and fight for him."

"I can't fight anymore, Tank," Steph cried. "I've been holding on for so long, I just don't have any more fight in me. She's won."

"What do you mean, _'she's won'_?" Tank frowned at the teary-eyed woman in front of him. "If you're talking about Illiana and Ranger, you're way off the _mark_." Tank grinned in spite of himself. More Tank humor.

"Ranger isn't interested in her, not that way." He threw an arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. "Steph, Ranger may not remember everything about you yet, but he is still very much in love with you. He took an _effing bullet_ in his shoulder and I can tell you from personal experience, that hurts like hell. But he chose to stay here kissing you instead of demanding to go to the hospital." Tank raised his eyebrows and spread his hands for emphasis.

"But he's living _with her_ and he asked you to take care _of her_," she sniffled, tears filling her eyes again.

"I was in her house, Steph. Ranger lives next to the garage. There was no evidence of him anywhere else in the house. He knows that Illiana is in deep trouble and will need help to prove her innocence. He's a loyal friend, that's all. You, of all people, should know what lengths Ranger will go to to help his friends."

Steph sniffled again and then nodded, knowing he was right. Ranger had been her friend and had moved heaven and earth to help her each time she got herself into a pickle. "But _she said_ he was her boyfriend, and implied they were lovers. I know she's in love with him." Tears started to roll down her cheeks.

Tank was losing ground with her. What else could he say to reassure her? "_She_ may be in love with him, but _he_ only thinks of her as a good friend," Tank said. "The way he looks at _you_, though, is undeniable."

"How do you know that?" Steph cried. "You haven't been around both of them. You don't know that he doesn't look at her the same way he looks at me."

Tank sighed. "You're just going to have to trust me on this one, Steph. He loves you. Whether he's Ranger or Marc, he loves only you." Feeling clumsy and helpless, he pulled a crying Steph into his chest and held her until her sobs died down. "Feel better?"

With her head buried in his massive chest, Steph let out a loud hiccup. After a moment, a low rumble sounded deep in Tank's chest. Steph hiccupped again, this time louder and her head bounced back and hit Tank's chin. Tank couldn't hold it in any longer and let a loud guffaw, which started Steph laughing. The two of them dissolved into peals of laughter until they had to hold their sides. The past hour had been way too intense and, while the levity may have been out of character for both friends, it relieved their pent up tension.

Steph finally straightened up and wiped tears, of laughter this time, from her eyes. "Thanks, I needed that," she sighed. "Now, how do we help Ranger?"

Tank sat down in the chair he'd brought out earlier. "We have to find a way to get Ranger out of the Feds' hands ASAP. We need a strategy, a plan."

Stephanie took several deep breaths. "What's going to happen to him?"

"Don't worry, they'll treat his shoulder, and then they'll question him to see what he remembers about the mission. I'm not going to lie to you. They won't go easy on him. He may be one of ours, but they'll use whatever interrogation tactics they think will work on him, to see if he's holding out. After all, he's been MIA for ten months and that will cause suspicion. They have the fifth team member back now and should be able to extract a considerable amount of Intel from him. They may feel they don't need Ranger. If they think they can use him to get the Venezuelans off their back, they will."

"Are you saying our own government would turn him over to Venezuela?" Steph cried, horrified at the thought. She'd seen what the Iranians had done to Cuchillo.

Tank rubbed his hand over his bare scalp and then made a disgusted sound. "Right now, those in power have proven themselves to be weak, lily-livered assholes. It wouldn't surprise me if they knuckled under to the pressure. Our government officials love pointing the finger at a scapegoat. What action they take will depend on how valuable they feel Ranger still is to them and what the Venezuelan government has for proof of Ranger spying on them. If it is only the coerced words of Cuchillo, then probably no. But if the Venezuelan government has photographic or audio evidence – _some tangible proof_ – and refuses to back down, then our government might just turn Ranger over."

"PROOF!" Stephanie shouted. "_I have proof_." She started patting herself down and searching her pockets. Coming up empty, she started to panic.

"What are you talking about?" Tank asked.

Steph mumbled to herself and paced frantically with her head bowed, trying to remember something. Suddenly, her head popped up and she gave Tank a huge grin. She raced to the stairwell, curls flying, and flung the door open. Tank was right behind her, worried she'd gone off the deep end. He followed her up the stairs to the top floor and down the hall. He watched as she picked up a handbag off the floor and searched through it.

"_Aha!_ Here they are." With a triumphant look on her face she held out her hand, palm up. Nestled in the middle of her upturned hand were two small white capsules. With her other hand, she picked up one and said, "This was removed from Ranger along with a bunch of shrapnel. Yada, the old woman from the village, performed primitive surgery on Ranger after he was injured. Joran, the little boy who found Ranger, was carrying this in a leather sack around his neck along with the pieces of metal Yada cut out of Ranger. He let me have me this. I thought it might be important."

Tank inspected the capsule. It was smaller than any other type of implant he'd seen and made of an unknown substance. This one was made of a white opaque material and marred by minute scratches. "It's either a tracking or data implant of some kind. My guess is it holds incriminating info, something Ranger was able to obtain while he was undercover."

Steph held up the second capsule. "Cuchillo gave me this. He said to only give it to Ranger. Delgado and the rest of the team were sleeping only a few feet away and Cuchillo obviously didn't trust him and gave it to me instead. He'd been keeping it hidden in his cheek. So maybe the Iranians never found it. Can we use it to help Ranger? And Cuchillo?" Steph had an intense look about her, hanging her hopes on two little pieces of scratched porcelain.

A slow smile spread across Tank's face. "Good girl. So, Delgado never saw either of these?"

Steph shook her head no. "I trusted Delgado with my life… and with Ranger's. I can't believe he betrayed Ranger like he did." Steph's face had turned stormy.

Tank shook his head. "He didn't betray Ranger, Steph. He's just following orders. If he did anything other than what he did just now, he'd be considered insubordinate and be up for a court martial. But I'm glad you trusted your instincts and didn't show these to him." Tank gave her back the capsule. "Hold on to these and keep them safe." She tucked them both in a zippered pocket in her purse.

Tank wrapped his arms around Steph and gave her another bear hug. "Ya done good, Steph." He released her and started moving back down the hall to the stairs. "We'll have to give our statements to the police downstairs. But then, we kick it into high gear and go get our boy. And I know just who to call."

"Who are you gonna call?" she asked.

Tank's grin split his face from ear to ear. "TheManBusters!"

. . .

It was mid-morning by the time the San Francisco police had finished with Stephanie and Tank. The entire industrial complex of Barnes & Nobel was considered a crime scene and had been cordoned off. Police were turning arriving employees away with no definite date when the company would reopen for business. Illiana had been taken into custody and was still being questioned.

Pax and his team, plus additional DEA staff from the San Francisco Division office, were working in tandem with the SF police department to investigate this case. Steph and Tank met with Pax and the DEA team for several hours after their own police debriefing. They went over all the known facts regarding the Sudden Death Operation II case and what additional evidence they would need to collect.

Once they were free to go, Tank made several phone calls. The first one was to the Trenton RangeMan office. After reporting on the salient events from last night, Tank gave Lester detailed instructions. His final words were, "Take my safety deposit key and collect everything from the box and bring it to San Francisco." There was a 'whoop' as Lester took in Tank's orders. Les loved to travel; the fact that Ranger had been found alive also might have had some impact on Les' jubilant mood.

The second call was to Geoff Haricko, RangeMan's lawyer. Tank again described the details of last night, as well as what had happened to Ranger and his team members. Haricko agreed with Tank on who they needed to hire as Ranger's lawyer. There was only one firm that had successfully taken on the U.S. government concerning military matters and won, time and time again. They were jokingly known as "The Man Busters," referring of course to taking down those in power, notably the police or the military. Haricko assured Tank that the firm's lead attorney, RJ Cardon, would jump at the chance to take Ranger's case.

Tank also asked Haricko to take on Illiana's case personally, as a favor to Ranger. Tank was positive Illiana would eventually be cleared of all charges, but would need counsel in the meantime, just to get through the various levels of governmental scrutiny and investigations. She would also need help in salvaging what could be saved after Barnes & Nobel was sued for damages from the various plaintiffs harmed by her grandfather's insidious actions. Geoff Haricko worked for a large firm out of DC that frequently dealt with corporations battling federal regulations and class action suits.

Both Tank and Steph needed a few hours sleep before the attorneys would fly in and Lester would arrive with the contents of 'Marc Pardo's' safety deposit box. Tank drove Steph back to her hotel and got himself a room as well. After a late lunch in the hotel dining room, they retreated to their rooms and got some shut-eye.

Later that evening, Tank, Steph and Lester met with Geoff Haricko and RJ Cardon for dinner and to discuss strategy for defending both Ranger and Illiana. Steph brought out the two microchips for everyone's inspection.

Lester took one look at the capsules and gave out a low whistle. "I've heard about these, but it's the first time I've seen one." He examined both capsules closely and then explained to the group around the table, "They're the latest in microchip technology. They come equipped with a small scanning device the size of a credit card. The device stores all data scanned in the microchip and then, when the user has captured all the data he needs, he uses the same unit to inject the capsule under his skin. The unique thing about this particular chip is that it can hold several gigabytes of memory and it's made of high-tempered ceramics so it can't be detected by a metal scanner."

Tank nodded and added, "Then these chips probably contain proof that Venezuela and Iran collaborated to mine and process uranium for the purpose of building nuclear weapons. That was the team's mission. I bet both countries would do nearly anything to destroy these capsules."

The microchips were passed around and the lawyers agreed the devices were going to be crucial to Ranger's case and would be used as bargaining tools to free Ranger from his contract with the government and, more importantly, have the government clear his name and his service record so he wouldn't have to live in hiding or as Marc Pardo for the rest of his life. Steph insisted that Cuchillo be part of the deal, too.

By the time the evening was over, the two lawyers had the basic information they would need to build their cases and free their respective clients. Stephanie would be directly involved in DEA's case against Andrew Barnes and Barnes & Noble Inc., so she recused herself from any discussions involving Illiana.

Steph still was hurting over Marc's feelings for the woman. It took a lot of convincing from both Tank and Lester to get Steph to return to Trenton without Marc, but they were finally able to convince her to leave his release up to the lawyers. RJ Cardon told Stephanie he would petition the military courts to have 'Marc Pardo' released as soon as possible, but he let her know they had an uphill fight on their hands.

With both Ranger and Cuchillo's microchips in RangeMan's possession, they now had some leverage in the battle they faced. The information that was on the chips was the only concrete proof the U.S. government had that Venezuela was working with Iran and Russia to manufacture nuclear weapons, directly against NATO directives. The international community would be up in arms against those three countries if the details of their criminal collaboration were revealed. This would give the U.S. the evidence needed to force Venezuela to back off of prosecuting any of the team members, especially Carlos 'Ranger' Mañoso.

Tank knew Ranger's fate was now in the hands of the legal system. He was a man of action and the waiting game was hard on him, but even harder on Stephanie. She would need a lot of support to get her through this ordeal. She needed to be back in the RangeMan fold.

**TBC**


	36. Chapter 36 Coming Home

**Chapter 36—Coming Home**

_The only questions that really matter are the ones you ask yourself._

The tension on the fifth floor was palpable. Today was the day the 'boss man' was coming home.

Ranger'd been in federal custody for the two months it took the military courts to hear his case. Homeland Security had refused to release him citing national security reasons and claiming death threats against Carlos Mañoso from outside sources. Only his lawyers had been allowed to see him during that time. While he looked tired, Mañoso told his lawyers he hadn't been mistreated and his 'superiors' had relented and finally conceded he had a form of amnesia and could not remember any details of his mission.

Because of its potential impact on national security even the time frames for this unusual case had been expedited. Normally, a case like this would take over a year to resolve due to bureaucratic red tape and the slowness of the military in processing legal matters. But at the end of it, RJ Cardon and his crack legal team had been successful once again and Ranger was to be released, with his name and service record cleared and his government contract deemed fulfilled. The man known as Cuchillo had been offered the same deal.

The key to successful negotiations for both men had been the information stored in their capsule implants. Ranger and Cuchillo had performed their jobs well and, before their mission was concluded, had been able to download into the capsules the necessary proof that Iran and Venezuela, along with Russia, had conspired and collaborated to produce nuclear weapons directly against NATO edicts.

The U.S. government had been all too eager to concede to Ranger's demands in order to get their hands on the incendiary data. When threatened with the public release of their criminal collusion, both Iran and Venezuela backed off their demands for Ranger's head. The U.S. had also forced the two countries to other restrictive conditions as well, but those negotiations were top secret.

No one at RangeMan knew exactly what to expect from their boss. All RangeMen employees had been briefed about their employer's memory loss, but no one who knew the tightly controlled badass that was Ranger Mañoso could believe he really had no memory of his former self. The Ranger they knew was dominating, intimidating and in supreme control of himself at all times. What would this new Ranger be like and could he measure up?

Once she'd received the official word that Ranger was finally going to be released, Stephanie insisted on flying to Colorado Springs, where he'd been housed at Fort Carson Army Base the past two months. She wanted to be the one to pick him up and bring him home.

Steph was still under contract to the DEA, but had moved back to Trenton since the Sudden Death Operation had been solved, mainly due to her hard work. Pax had been more than pleased with her job performance and had offered her a full time position on his team. His team had made a 180 degree turn regarding Stephanie Plum. John and Curt had apologized to her for their less than professional treatment and figured they could put up with her quirkiness if her hunches always paid off so nicely. However, they amped up their practical jokes on her in an effort to hide the fact they were a little intimidated by her.

Steph hadn't accepted the appointment yet; she didn't want to make any major life decisions until Ranger was home safe and sound. But she, along with several of the RangeMen, had been doing investigative work for the DEA concerning allegations that some dirty cops were purloining confiscated drugs from law enforcement evidence rooms throughout city police departments in New Jersey. With Steph's many friendships on the Trenton PD, she was able to insert herself in situations other agents would have difficulty infiltrating. The undercover work kept her busy enough so she didn't obsess too much about Ranger's legal case.

She'd been able to talk to Ranger by phone a few times during his sequestration, but hadn't been able to see him. Only his lawyers were allowed physical access to him. Steph thought the only positive thing about Ranger's enforced isolation was that no one else could visit him either, including Illiana. Despite what Tank had told her, Steph's insecurities had her wary of the dark haired, dark skinned beauty.

Illiana's personal case was still in arbitration and the suit against Barnes & Nobel would take the rest of the year, at a minimum. Both the DEA and the judge hearing the case agreed that Illiana had no knowledge of what her grandfather had been doing with the company's resources, but there were financial and legal aspects of the case still to be negotiated. Ranger had been deposed regarding his part in the death of Andrew Barnes and his actions had been determined to be just and necessary to protect the lives of Stephanie, Illiana and himself. Stephanie had been advised by the lawyers to have no contact with Illiana until the trial was over, as Steph was one of the leading witnesses against the pharmaceutical company.

During one of the few phone calls Stephanie had with Ranger, she told him about his family and about Julie. He was stunned to learn he had a teenage daughter. Stephanie had been in regular contact with his mother and his daughter and had explained what had happened to Ranger and his resultant memory loss. Sonia Mañoso blessed Stephanie over and over when she told Sonia her son was alive and well, and Julie was speechless to learn her father wasn't dead. But Julie took it in stride. To Julie, her father seemed larger than life and coming back from the dead was just another example of his invincibility.

When Steph informed Ranger about his family, she could hear his pain through his silence as she described his distant relationship with his only daughter. Steph tried to reassure him that his family couldn't wait to see him and that he would be accepted with open arms. She decided to wait to tell him about the past incident when Julie was kidnapped by Edward Scrog because of him. There would be time enough later to catch Ranger up on the details on his past life. It was enough for him to absorb the big picture right now. If she could feel his new openness, she knew Julie would respond positively to it, too, and that would be half the battle in renewing their father-daughter relationship.

Steph struggled with the fact that Ranger still thought of himself as Marc Pardo. He said he didn't feel right about calling himself Ranger or Mañoso since he still had no idea who that person was. He agreed, though, not to make an issue of it with his staff at RangeMan when he returned. Steph knew his family would call him Carlos and she wondered how he would react to that. But for now, it was enough that he was coming home, home to her.

Marc had been insistent that he fly home alone and that Steph remain in New Jersey, but she was not to be dissuaded. She was waiting for him as he walked out the main gate at Fort Carson. Rushing into his arms, Steph felt his renewed strength as he twirled her round and round. His happiness at seeing her again was evident by the tightness with which he held her and of course, his 200 watt smile.

_I've seen the seven wonders of the world_

_I've seen the beauty of diamonds and pearls_

_But they mean nothing, babe_

_Your love amazes me_

Neither spoke much on the taxi drive to the airport, both content to cuddle together and steal quick, but passionate kisses. The little conversation they did have centered on Marc's last few days in 'captivity' and the details of the upcoming flight home.

It wasn't until they were on the plane, seated in first class, that they began to open up to each other and talk.

Stephanie figured she should get the hard part over with. "It's going to be a little hectic when we get back to Trenton. Everyone was so happy to know you were alive that they couldn't wait to celebrate your safe return home."

"Who's everyone? I hope you don't have a big party planned my first day back?"

Marc leaned back against the headrest and closed his eyes for a moment as if gathering strength. He didn't feel like he was going home. The life waiting for him in Trenton was unknown to him. He felt his only true home was the woman who'd haunted his dreams for more than a year and was now seated beside him. He leaned forward and gazed into the blue eyes that had driven him to search for his past. In a phone conversation he'd had with Tank last month, he'd learned that Stephanie was the only one who always believed he was still alive. She had never stopped pushing the government to find him and never stopped looking for him. The only thing Marc wanted to do right now was hold her and never let her go.

_I've seen a sunset that would make you cry_

_And colors of the rainbow, reaching cross the sky_

_The moon in all its phases_

_Your love amazes me_

"Well, I wouldn't call it a party, but your family and friends all are eager to welcome you back from the dead. We're going straight to RangeMan so there will be many of your friends and employees there. Your family will also be there, but we convinced Julie to wait a few days before she and Rachel fly up from Miami." Steph was holding Marc's hand in hers and she rubbed her thumb against his palm as she talked.

Being so close to her and having her touch him in such an intimate way was driving him wild. He leaned closer and breathed in her sweet scent.

Steph continued, "Your first meeting with family and friends will probably be a little awkward. Everyone knows about your amnesia, so expect them to introduce themselves and maybe explain their relationship to you."

"I have no idea what to expect." _And what do they expect of me?_ thought Marc as his head gave a barely perceptible shake. "They're all going to be strangers to me, though thank you for sending me pictures of my family so I know what they look like." He kept his face blank, but there was a twinkle in his eyes. "I'd hate to get a hard on when my beautiful sisters hug me, not knowing who they are." Steph slapped him on his shoulder for that crude remark, but she was smiling. At least he could joke with her, though it was a different kind of humor than before.

Marc lifted his arm and put it around her shoulders, drawing her close. "You'll stay by my side, won't you?" He waited until she looked up at him and nodded and then he kissed her. It was a long kiss, as if he hated to let even a few inches separate them.

_I prayed for miracles that never came_

_I got down on my knees out in the pouring rain_

_But only you could save me_

_Your love amazes me_

When they finally broke apart, Stephanie steeled herself for the next topic. "Marc, there's something that's been on my mind. I'll only ask you this once, but I need to know."

Marc raised one eyebrow as she took a deep breath. He could feel her nervousness and kept his arm draped across her shoulders to reassure her. His feelings for this curly-haired, blue-eyed whirlwind of a woman hadn't waned a bit. He'd been secretly delighted to see her waiting for him when he walked out the Fort Carson gates. They hadn't had any time together in San Francisco before he was whisked away, and the few phone calls they'd had after that centered around the legal case and Stephanie filling in a few basic facts of his life and family.

During his isolation, Marc had put the time to good use researching his past life, including finding out all about one Ms. Stephanie Plum. He read all the articles about her explosive career as the Bombshell Bounty Hunter and later as the newest young Turk in the DEA. Everything she did, she did with gusto and a charming naiveté, and she always managed to land on her feet, despite the odds stacked against her. He wasn't quite sure how he fit into her life in the past, but he would make sure there was a place for him with her going into the future.

Marc couldn't find much information about Ranger Mañoso or his security company on the Internet. However, he was allowed phone access to the man who was running the business in his absence. The man he now knew as Tank was quite the efficient right-hand man. Tank sent him all of RangeMan's annual reports since the company was incorporated, as well as their tax reports, employee rosters for the various offices and current contracts for their main clients. Marc was impressed with the company's rapid success and profit margin. He discovered he was quite a wealthy man.

As part of his legal negotiations with the government, he'd also demanded to see his military service record and copies of all his official and personal reports regarding his missions. Reading the words he himself had written concerning the many assassinations, infiltrations and undercover assignments he'd undertaken gave him a unique look into his past. At first, he'd been appalled by the number of people he'd killed, but as he kept reading, he realized how many lives he'd saved by his seemingly ruthless actions. Having no memory of his military training and education, he was impressed by what he'd accomplished in such a short time. He'd received numerous commendations and medals for his heroism and achievements. He'd also received considerable financial compensation for the covert missions he'd completed.

He wondered what the toll his military career and subsequent covert missions had taken on the man he once was? Having a better understanding of his past actions helped explained his badass reputation as a lone wolf and his choice of dangerous professions. He could also understand why he hadn't allowed people, especially women, to get too close to him.

How do you step into a life as mysterious and 'big' as this Ranger Mañoso seemed to live? Marc wondered if he had the balls to fill Ranger's jockstrap. If he wanted to maintain his business and financial success, he'd have to be a quick study of Ranger's personality and business acumen and be able to project his enigmatic aura.

The one thing he knew for certain was that he did not want to lose the love of the woman sitting next to him. Turning to face her, he replied to her statement, "Whatever you need to know, just ask. If it's in my power to tell you, I will."

Steph scrunched up her forehead and glanced at the handsome man seated next to her. Ranger had always been honest with her, but he had never been forthcoming about personal information. She felt a little guilty as she contemplated all the questions she wanted to ask, knowing that Marc would tell her anything.

She stared at the fabric design covering the back of the seat in front of her and began, "About Illiana…" her front teeth gently scraped over her lower lip, "You were living in her house?"

A small smile played at the corners of his mouth. He hadn't expected this. She was jealous! He actually liked the thought of that. Stephanie seemed so strong and confident. So, he had a tiny bit of power in this relationship after all. He couldn't help playing with her a bit.

"Yes. Illiana and I lived together," he replied matter of factly.

"Oh."

"Is that all you wanted to know?"

"_Hmmm_, um… well… did you and she ever…. um… _you know_…" Steph was looking anywhere but at Marc, her eyes roaming all over the cabin, her hands twisting in her lap.

"No, I don't know. Did we ever _what_?" Marc didn't want her to suffer too much, but he wanted to encourage her to be open and honest with him.

Steph huffed in exasperation. He was going make her say it, wasn't he? "I know you had…have amnesia and you didn't… don't remember anything that happened between us, so I can't, I won't blame you if you were…" She inhaled a huge breath of air as if she was diving underwater and had to hold her breath. "with other women while you were gone." She exhaled loudly and was squirming in her seat so much it was a wonder she didn't slide right out of it. "But I have to know… did you… sleep with _her_?" She still wouldn't look at him.

Marc didn't bother to hide his grin. He plucked her fidgeting hand from her lap and brought it to his lips, kissing her palm.

Feeling his love for her, Stephanie faced her fear and looked at Marc.

He continued holding her hand, stroking her palm with his thumb. "Illiana is my friend and risked so much for me. She is the only reason I was able to get out of Venezuela without being arrested. She spent a great deal of money and personal risk getting me into the United States. I had nothing — no money, no identification, no job. She offered me a room in her house and got me a job. I was able to pay her back all the money I owed and then, I began to be suspicious of her grandfather. I chose to continue living in her house, both to protect her and to discover more about her grandfather. But…Stephanie," he kissed her palm again, "I'm not in love with her and I never had sex with her."

Steph's heart had been beating a mile a minute and when he kissed her hand for the second time, everything stopped… her heart, her breathing, her brain. But when he told her he hadn't slept with Illiana, she burst into tears of relief.

Confused by her sudden tears, Marc pulled her into his chest, stroking her back and murmuring in her ear. "Querida, no! I said _I didn't_. Nothing happened between us." He put his hands alongside her face and stared into her eyes, whispering fiercely, "Don't ever doubt that I love you… only you!"

_Don't you ever doubt this love of mine_

_You're the only one for me_

_You give me hope_

_You give me reason_

_You give me something to believe in_

_Forever faithfully_

_Your love amazes me_

Stephanie raised her head and smiled through her tears, "You love me? But you don't know me, not really."

"I know my heart and I know that you fill it with light and laughter and peace."

Marc leaned down and pressed his lips against hers. The kiss deepened and continued for several minutes. When they finally broke apart, he held his finger under her chin so she couldn't look away.

"At every high and low point over the past year, I thought of you, only I didn't know it was you. I just knew something kept pushing me forward, driving me to the States and to my past life. Even when I couldn't remember anything, there was a feeling I was missing something… someone important in my life. Every woman I met, I looked for you in her. Every woman came up short." He softly brushed her lips and then touched his lips to her forehead. "You and I must have had an incredible connection before I went on that messed up mission. Even losing my memory, I never lost you. You've been with me the whole time. Te amo, Estefania."

_Your love_

_But only you could save me_

_Your love amazes me_

She'd listened to one of the longest speeches she'd ever heard come from Ranger's lips. When he told her he loved her in Spanish, it took her back to the day he left her in Trenton over a year ago. Her eyes filled again with tears, happy tears.

"I love you, too. You've always been there for me, from the moment we met. I could do no less for you. I'm just glad we found you and that your name was cleared and we can get on with our lives," Steph said, her eyes shining with unspilt tears. She reached up and kissed him, and then they both leaned into each other, foreheads touching.

A flight attendant interrupted them and they sat back in their seats. She asked if they'd like something to drink. Marc looked at Stephanie and she replied, "A Coke please, with ice." Marc asked for a bottle of water. They held hands until the attendant returned with their drinks. They both took a respective sip of their drinks and their hands found each other again, fingers entwining.

Turning his head slightly to look at Steph, Marc said, "Now I have a question for you."

AN: Song is_ 'Your Love Amazes Me' _by John Berry_._

**TBC**


	37. Chapter 37 Detour

**Chapter 37—Detour**

_All you have to do is know where you're going. _

_The answers will come to you of their own accord._

_Turning his head slightly to look at Steph, Marc said, "Now I have a question for you." _

Stephanie swiveled in her seat and replied with a grin, "Shoot, Batman. What do you wanna know?"

"Batman?" Marc's eyebrow arched as he gave her a puzzled look.

Steph grinned again and gave him the Twitter version of how they met when they were BEAs for her duck-loving, bail bond writing, pervert of a cousin Vinnie. She told him he agreed to be her bounty hunter 'mentor' and they became friends, though it was an admittedly atypical friendship.

Again, just giving him the Reader's Digest version, she related some of the first jobs they worked on together, such as bringing in skips like Lonnie Dodd, Mo Bedemeir and Caroline Scarzolli, and clearing Ranger's name when he was accused of killing Homer Ramos. Her story-telling had both of them laughing; Stephanie remembering all the crazy times, and Marc barely believing her wild adventures could be true or that he agreed to be part of such wackiness.

Then she told him about the mercurial neon sign that was Lula and explained that she and Lula thought he was like Batman, the dark knight. Steph continued with examples of Ranger's attempts to avoid the spotlight and maintain the upper hand. She even told him how she and Lula had tried to find out more about him via Internet searches, but only came up with an address that turned out to be a vacant lot. Marc threw back his head and laughed at that. He'd learned more about himself, and this witty woman, in the last hour than he had in the entire past year.

"So, I was a real control freak, huh?" he said. Marc wasn't sure about this Ranger he was hearing about. During his incarceration, Marc had asked his lawyer, Geoff Haricko, questions about himself and Haricko told him that Ranger could be quite aloof at times and held everyone at arm's distance. To Marc, it seemed Ranger must have lived an extremely private and lonely existence. He looked back on the past year and realized he wasn't all that different from Ranger. Well, that was going to change, he vowed, at least as far as Stephanie was concerned.

He shifted his body a bit so he could face Stephanie. He loved watching her, the way she never sat still, her eyes flashing, her jumble of curls bouncing each time she laughed or turned her head. He thought she was beautiful, although much of her beauty came from within, as evidenced by her radiant nature and her zest for life. And she said she loved him!

"Which leads me to my question. Just what exactly is the nature of our relationship?" He used the back of his fingers to gently stroke Stephanie's rapidly blushing cheek.

"I told you we're friends," she hedged.

"That's all?"

"It's complicated."

Marc's jaw clenched and he pressed, "You said that once before and I let it slide, but now I want… I need to know more about us." Steph pursed her lips and stared at the scuffed shoes of the guy sitting diagonally across from her.

"Stephanie…?"

He heard a big sigh come from her and he said the one word she couldn't refuse, "Please."

"Gonna play dirty with me, huh?" she quipped, darting her eyes at him and then quickly looking away. "Alright! Like I told you, we met through bounty hunting and became friends. And somewhere along the way, our friendship changed into… _damn, I don't know_… two steps up from some weird version of 'friends with benefits'." She seemed very uncomfortable talking about this subject, but she plunged ahead when Marc nodded at her.

"I don't mean to imply that what was between us was casual or even frequent, but we both knew we were attracted to each other and… you were _very good_ at giving mind blowing kisses, even when I tried to resist." She finally looked at him as a small smile turned the corners of her mouth up. "I didn't resist too hard."

He grinned. "That doesn't sound too complicated. I like the mind blowing kisses part." And he leaned in and did just that. He felt her quickly respond to his ardent embrace and went in for a mind expanding kiss.

Their flight attendant happened to walk by at that moment and stumbled. She kept right on walking, but she was fanning herself as she wobbled down the aisle oblivious to passengers' requests for more drinks—more peanuts—more pillows, etc.

"So, did we move in together… or what?" he prompted, keeping his arms loosely around her.

Steph shook her head. "Like I said, it's complicated."

When he frowned, she took a deep breath and continued, "I'd started seeing someone when you and I were… still just working partners. He was someone from my past and soon he and I were…" Steph rolled her eyes, "an item."

Marc sat back and frowned. "Are you saying I moved in on you knowing you were with this other guy?"

She sighed. "Well, Joe and I weren't the typical couple. We'd be together for awhile, then we'd fight and break up. And you and I were working cases together and…" she sighed, "you would kiss me and I wouldn't stop you. Actually, I couldn't stop you. I wanted the kisses as much as you did."

"So, you cheated on this Joe… with me?" Marc didn't like the sound of that.

"_No!_ No, we didn't really do much more than sneak the occasional kiss and embrace, which, I know, is bad enough." She hemmed and hawed and shook her head and sighed some more. "But… there was one time… Joe and I had broke up, for the umpteenth time, and you and I… finally… well, we did it." Steph's eyes began to fill with tears.

Marc felt his stomach clench as he saw her tears. "Was it _that_ bad?" he joked, hoping to lighten the sudden downturn in her mood.

She shook her head. "It was amazing! You were amazing! And it was the most wonderful night of my life." She reached out and stroked his cheek, then dropped her hand back into her lap, her eyes following suit. "But, afterward, you sent me back to Joe," she stammered, her voice breaking.

"_Why on earth_ _would I do that_?" Marc couldn't imagine letting this captivating woman go, let alone make love to her and then shove her back into the arms of her old boyfriend. The thought went through his mind, _'What was wrong with this Ranger Mañoso?'_

Steph was silent, staring down at her lap. He ached to pull her onto his lap and make her hurt go away.

"Please, Steph, I need to hear your side. I want to understand the man I was and I can tell you, right now, I don't," Marc took her hand in his and gently rubbed it with his other hand.

She shuffled her feet and fidgeted a little. "You told me your life didn't lend itself to relationships. That you and I weren't a good idea."

Keeping her head down, Steph let out a big breath of air. "Over the years, you told me things like, 'you loved me, but in your own way' and that 'you weren't family material'. That the kind of love you have for me 'doesn't call for a ring, but a condom might come in handy'." Tears rolled down her cheeks as she remembered some of the more intimate, but difficult moments she and Ranger had shared.

She finally dared to look at him, "Basically, you kept telling me you were the best man for the job, but that you weren't applying."

Marc let out a quiet sound of disgust. He was hearing things about his old self he wasn't particularly pleased to hear, but even worse, was the pain his own words had caused Stephanie. That he was the cause of her tears now wasn't acceptable to him. He slowly brushed her tears off her cheeks with his thumbs, and then wrapped his arms around her, silently vowing never to let anything hurt her again.

Internally, he uttered a sardonic laugh. How did he protect her when he was the one who hurt her? The one way he could think of was to stay away from her. Maybe that was Ranger's reasoning back then, too?

"Stephanie, I don't know what to say. The way I feel about you now, there is no way, no way in hell, I would ever push you away. But I must have." He bowed his head and blew out a breath.

"Then, how did we finally get together… or didn't we?" Marc searched Stephanie's face trying to read her expression and was relieved when he saw the love in her eyes.

She kissed the closest part of him – his strong chin – feeling the beginnings of his stubble prick her lips. "You and I finally got on the same page, but it wasn't until the day you left on your last mission. Actually, it wasn't until the last few minutes before you had to go." Steph snorted. "Our timing always sucked, and I don't say that lightly."

She smiled, though a little sadly. "There were so many times I almost gave in to temptation, to being with you, but something always seemed to come between us," she sighed, and then muttered under her breath, "_mainly my guilty conscience_."

"But that last day, I made the decision to leave Joe. I left him for good. I actually felt relief when I made that decision. But I was in desperate need of a job. I went to RangeMan to ask Tank if I could run searches for him. I hadn't seen you in weeks; I thought you were out of town, but you were there and we talked."

She smiled at Marc, remembering her last conversation with him as Ranger. "You gave me a job and told me to work out the details with Tank. I thought you hated me," she chuckled. At Marc's puzzled look, she explained, "Up until that time, I hadn't been around Tank very much and he was never very talkative or friendly with me. To be honest, he scared me."

"I didn't think anybody scared you," Marc said.

"Well, I wouldn't show it if I could help it, but with his size, blank face and unapproachable presence, most people get a little intimidated around Tank. And you're no slouch in the intimidation department either, Batman."

"Me? Intimidating?" Marc gave her a mock glare and they both laughed. They leaned toward each other and kissed. Pulling her close, he let his lips leave a trail of kisses and goose bumps from her jaw line down her neck until his chin was propped on her shoulder.

"So, what happened that last day that put us on the same page?" he asked.

"That's one of my best and worst memories combined," Steph confessed. Marc was glad she could remember their times together, even if they weren't all good. He wished he could remember _anything_ about his previous life, especially anything with Stephanie in it.

"With that cryptic buildup, you can't stop now," he coaxed.

A blush crept into Steph's cheeks. "I finally came clean and told you that I loved you. I'd never said it to you before. Heck, it took me three years of dancing around with you and you nearly dying before I could admit it to myself and then it took another two years to let you in on it."

Marc was taken aback when she mentioned him nearly dying. Sounded like another story all on its own. But he had to grin about her 'coming clean.' He could actually imagine that little exchange between them. She would have been so cute, like she was right now. "I trust I responded as you hoped I would?"

Steph shook her head. "At first you didn't say anything… you didn't respond at all. I was horrified that I'd ruined the friendship we had. I didn't exactly backpedal then, but I babbled on about it being 'okay', that nothing had to change and prayed that we could still be friends. And then… you asked me if I really loved you. And…" Steph's eyes began to fill with tears again, "I said yes…"

Marc watched as Steph's face reflected several strong emotions. Were her tears sad or happy ones? "Please, don't tell me I rejected you?"

Steph shook her head, "No, just the opposite." She actually smiled through her tears. "You were very happy. In fact, every part of you was _very happy_." She blushed again.

"Much like now," Marc confessed, as he nuzzled her neck. "You said it was the best and worst memory. What was the bad part?"

Steph sighed, "Well, other than the fact that you had to _leave_ right then, there was also the little matter of my 'spidey sense' picking that moment to make my skin crawl and my stomach turn over."

"Your _spidey sense_?" Marc asked. "Do I want to hear this?"

"After you finished kissing me senseless, I had a premonition. By the way, you are a _fantastic kisser_," she informed him.

"Me or Ranger?" Marc had to ask.

Steph grinned. "Both of you are phenomenal kissers." She sobered again and continued, "Now, back to my hunch. A wave of certainty came over me and I knew… I just knew that if you left, something bad would happen to you. I knew you weren't coming back to me. You, of course, told me not to worry and you left. That was over a year ago." She looked pointedly at Marc and jabbed his chest with her index finger. "Maybe now, you'll listen to my spidey sense?" Steph gave him a superior nod of her head.

"Shut up and kiss me," Marc growled.

Again, a highly embarrassed flight attendant stood in the aisle debating whether to interrupt Marc and Steph's steamy PDA. She had to tell them to fasten their seat belts as the plane was descending into Chicago for a short layover to allow some of the passengers to disembark before the plane continued on to Trenton. After the red-faced woman departed, Marc helped Stephanie buckle her seat belt. He delighted in taking his sweet time to make sure it was firmly positioned across her abdomen without pinching her, requiring him to slide his fingers underneath the strap. Reluctantly, he removed his hands from her soft warm body to buckle his own seatbelt, and grinned when Steph leaned over and helped him adjust the strap over his firm taut stomach.

The touchdown at O'Hare was smooth and uneventful. As the plane's doors swung out and several passengers filed past them, Marc grabbed Stephanie's hand and pulled her into the aisle. He took their overnight bags out of the overhead compartment and started leading her toward the front door.

Steph resisted and planted her feet, complaining, "What are you doing? We don't have to get off. The plane is continuing on to Trenton; we'll be there in another hour."

"I know. That's why we're getting off now." He firmly guided her down the aisle, informing the flight attendant they wouldn't be returning.

"But Marc…" Steph cried.

"Trust me," Marc replied.

Thirty minutes later, after a quick stop at a car rental booth, they were snugly belted in a black Porsche 911 Carrera and headed east on Interstate 90. Thanks to Tank's foresight, Marc was carrying a driver's license, two platinum credit cards and even a passport all with the name 'Marc Pardo' on them.

As soon as they left the city proper and got on the freeway, Marc reached for Steph's left hand and wouldn't let it go. Her hand rested on his thigh with his hand on top of hers.

Stephanie was grinning to beat the band. "Are you sure you have no memories of your past life?" she asked.

"No, why?"

Steph looked around at the car they were in. It was exactly what Ranger would have chosen. "Oh, nothing."

Then Steph remembered everyone in Trenton was waiting for them to arrive by plane. She plunked her handbag on her lap and searched through it for her cell phone. Hitting Tank's speed dial number, she mouthed 'Tank' to Marc while waiting for the big man to answer.

"Yo," Tank said.

"Tank, we're going to be a little late." Steph thrust the phone away from her ear and even Marc could hear the big man's upset voice booming out of the phone's speaker.

Marc lifted the phone from Steph's hand and spoke to his second in command. "We're taking a detour; we'll be incommunicado." He listened for a bit and then replied, "Whenever we get there. Give my apologies to my family." He disconnected and handed the phone back to a stunned Steph.

Marc continued driving, not saying anything, but he had a smile on his face and he was humming along with the song that was softly playing on the radio. Baffled by the change in travel plans, she put the phone back in her purse.

"What's that song?" Steph asked.

Marc turned the volume up, continuing to hum along. Steph listened to the lyrics, a puzzled look on her face. She'd never heard this song before, but liked the slow, haunting melody.

_If I had a nickel_

_For every nickel I've had_

_I'd be rich now_

_But they tempt and they tickle_

_They trickle right out of my hands_

_Like love somehow_

_I think of the heartache, the pain, and the cost_

_The friends and the fortunes I've gained and I've lost._

Bringing her hand up to his lips, Marc kissed her palm and then, in a total surprise move, he broke out singing the chorus. Steph's eyes widened, shocked to hear him sing and surprised he had a rich singing voice.

"_But I never lost you_

_No, I never lost you_

_I don't know how I've managed to hold on to_

_Something so true_

_But I never lost you."_

He kissed her hand again and turned his eyes back to the road, but he kept holding her hand as the song continued to play over the radio.

_Some things were stolen_

_Others were simply misplaced_

_And unrecovered_

_Like undying loyalty_

_Conviction and truth and faith_

_In another_

_I just keep letting it go til it's gone_

_Til all I have left is the one who held on._

Marc squeezed Steph's hand as the last verse ended. And again, as the chorus started he turned his head to look at her, his eyes shining as he crooned,

"_But I never lost you_

_No, I never lost you_

_Lost everything else, I even lost myself_

_A time or two"_

As he sang that last phrase, he actually winked at her.

"_But I never lost you_

_No, I never lost you_

_I don't know how I've managed to hold on to_

_Something so true_

_But I never lost you."_

He kissed each finger on her left hand and then her palm again, placing her hand back on his thigh.

She was speechless at first. She thought, _he looks like Ranger, his voice is the same, but would Ranger ever have sung to me?_ _God help me, do I love Marc more than I love Ranger? _

_"That was beautiful, Marc," Steph said, her voice a little husky with emotion. _

Marc was pleased with the way his 'detour' was going. It was time to ask her. "Stephanie, I can't express how much it means to me that you never gave up on me. We haven't had much time to be together, just the two of us. I couldn't face all those people waiting for us in Trenton, not without more time for you and I to get 'reacquainted.' I'd like for us to spend the night together, somewhere along the road, and arrive in Trenton late tomorrow. Are you OK with that?"

A rush of heat swept through Steph as she realized what he was asking of her. She had no hesitation in giving Marc her enthusiastic answer. "_Damn skippy!_"

"I take it that's a 'yes'?"

She nodded and he gave her a 200-watt smile as a vibrant pink blush rose up her neck and infused her cheeks with color. Though connected only by her hand on his thigh, they both felt joined by a much stronger bond.

They drove in comfortable silence for many miles. But as the scenery flew by, Steph was aware that Marc wasn't 'in the zone.' Maybe Marc didn't have a 'driving zone' like Ranger did. She squeezed his thigh and he glanced over at her, a sad look on his face, and a concerned one on hers.

She squeezed his thigh a second time.

"_Hmmm?_" Marc looked over at her.

"You've got something on your mind, don't you?" she asked. "And you aren't thinking about our plans for tonight." His expression was so serious, Steph's stomach churned.

"You talked about coming clean earlier…" he said.

Steph slowly nodded her head and took a deep breath. "You can tell me anything. I may not want to hear it, but I've grown up a lot this past year, sometimes more than I'm comfortable with. But I'd rather be hurt by the truth, than comforted with a lie."

Marc reached over and stroked her cheek and then focused on his driving as he talked. "During those first few weeks after I'd recovered from the mine explosion, I didn't give much thought to my past life. Waking up without any memory of _anything_ was bad enough, but I woke up in a remote village in a remote jungle in an even remoter part of the world. A place with no ties to civilization or the outside world. For me, it was as if the only people that existed were the forty or so individuals in that tribe." He glanced at her. "Steph, the Ye'kuana are perfectly content with their life and rarely talk about the world outside of the rainforest."

She responded, "I know. I was with them, remember? I was only there for one night, but they seemed to be a happy and peaceful people. Juan told me you were happy there, too."

"Juan spoke the truth. I was happy as long as I had no thoughts, no questions about my life before. My mind and body were so occupied with survival and healing, I never asked many questions, even of myself. Each day that passed was a wonder to me and I quickly fell into a rhythm of sleeping, hunting, eating and learning how to be a good Ye'kuana man."

Steph smiled at his last words. "According to Juan and Joran, you became that man. Joran proudly showed me the hut and canoe you helped the tribe build. He showed me the bow and arrows and the paddle you made. I even ate dinner out of the bowl you carved. You seemed to have become a bona fide member of the tribe and they all looked up to you."

"I owe them my life. If Joran hadn't rescued me from the river and Yada hadn't treated my wounds, I would have died. Then there was Joran's sister, Nevi. She was charged with nursing me back to health and since I was in and out of consciousness for the first couple of weeks, I required a lot of care. She was also the first person I saw when I woke up. Without knowing who I was or what kind of person I was, Nevi risked her own life to save me from the soldiers who forced their way into the village looking for the man who blew up their uranium mine."

"Wow, I didn't hear that story when I was in the village and I don't remember meeting anyone named Nevi. I wish I would have known so I could have thanked her."

Marc turned to look at Steph, an unreadable expression on his face. After a moment, he returned his focus to the road, but continued speaking. "She's at school now in Cuidad Bolivar. All young people in the village are given an opportunity to attend school in the big city once they reach the age of eighteen. They then can make their own decision whether they want to return to the rainforest or stay in the city. I don't know what choice Nevi will make. She's an intelligent girl and could do anything she put her mind to, much like you."

"It sounds like you think highly of Nevi?"

"I do.

"I'm sure she deserves your high opinion of her. And Marc, I'm glad you were happy there. It had to have been a hard time for you."

"It was hard at times, but I was happy… until Illiana came and brought the idea of the outside world with her. Because of her, I began to seriously question what I'd left behind. But… before she arrived in the village, something happened that jarred a memory within me, a memory I now know was of you. My first and only memory of my past."

"Me? I like that!" Steph said, grinning.

Marc shook his head. "You may not feel that way after I tell you what triggered it. But it's something I need to tell you. It involves Nevi."

Just from the tone in his voice, Steph's stomach turned over. Marc hadn't said the dreaded words, 'We need to talk,' but it didn't feel like it was going to be good news. She had to consciously open her fists when she realized her nails were digging into her palms.

He began, "A couple of months after I'd recovered, Juan asked me to do him a favor. It was something the Ye'kuana considered more of an honored tribal obligation than just a favor. The Ye'kuana have a custom, a tradition, where an elder, usually someone outside the immediate tribe, provides instruction to a young adult in the proper ways… of making love. The instruction is only for one night and Juan made it quite clear there was never to be any further sexual connection between teacher and student. Nevi asked me to be her teacher. I said yes."

Steph let out a gasp of shock. She didn't know what she'd expected, but this wasn't it. Her mind was racing. She glanced over at Marc and then immediately looked away. She didn't know whether to get angry or to cry.

Marc reached for her hand, but she pulled it away. "Steph, I realize how bad my actions then might seem to you now, but remember, I didn't have _any_ memories of my past, any memories of you. I was making a place for myself among them. I owed Juan and his family my life. He was entrusting his daughter to me, which was a great honor. It was one night. It was sex, not love. And because of that night, I had my first awareness of you. Holding Nevi, I knew something was missing and it involved a beautiful woman with unforgettable blue eyes. From that moment on, I knew I had to find my way back to her, _to you_."

Stephanie heard his words and the entreaty in his voice, but she still couldn't look at him. Her voice low and racked with emotion, she told him, "I know I said I'd understand if you'd been with other women, but I hadn't realized how much it would hurt." She was unconsciously chewing on her lower lip, fighting back the tears.

He reached again for her hand, but stopped when he saw the sadness in her face. "I would never intentionally hurt you, Stephanie." It tore him up to know that something he did, even when done without forethought or malice, had hurt the most important person in his life.

"I can promise my future fidelity to you, Querida, but I can't change my past. It seems I can _forget_ my past, I just can't change it." Marc grimaced at his poor attempt at lightening the mood.

Neither one of them spoke or looked at each other. Several more miles of rural countryside rushed by outside as they sat still and silent inside their Porsche cocoon – each deep in thought and personal contemplation.

It took awhile, but finally Steph let her hand wander across the console until it found Marc's. Their fingers entwined and they continued down the freeway, not speaking, but not needing to.

_AN: Song is 'I Never Lost You' by John Berry._


	38. Chapter 38 Just Desserts

**Chapter 38—Just Desserts**

_I think that passion and love and pain are all bearable, _

_and they go to make love beautiful._

It was late afternoon by the time Marc pulled off the Interstate and took a side road northeast toward Lake Erie. The countryside was sparsely populated until they came upon a little town called Vermilion-On-The-Lake. Driving through town, they approached a large rustic lodge with Lake Erie as its backdrop.

Marc pulled up to the lodge's front entryway and stopped the car. He swiftly exited and came around to Steph's side and opened her door. Holding out his hand, he helped her out and grabbed their luggage, then led her into the lodge.

He asked the young girl behind the reception desk for their best room and, after much giggling and fluttering of eyelashes, she booked them into the Presidential Suite. Climbing the widely spaced stairs to the top, Marc and Steph realized their room was the only one on that floor. Their lodging for the night turned out to be a magnificent set of rooms decorated in deep blues and greens. The décor complemented the stunning views of the lake and surrounding woods that could be seen through the double bay windows of the sitting area. There was a big stone fireplace set in the wall between the living room and the bedroom. Decorative andirons were artfully arranged with logs and kindling and required just a match to light a blazing fire.

Marc carried their bags into the next room and deposited them on the padded bench at the end of the bed. The spacious bedroom was tastefully appointed with dark wood furniture and continued the blue and green theme in its bed linens and draperies, but there was no avoiding the massive four-poster bed that dominated the room.

Steph stepped through the French doors into the bedroom and her eyes grew big as she took in the king-sized bed. This was really going to happen. After all she'd been through this past year, after all the ups and downs, she and Ranger… well, she and Marc… were finally going to be together. Their second time together, or was it actually their first, since Marc didn't remember their first time?

She sat on the edge of the bed and held out her hand to Marc, feeling the need for a closer connection. They'd revealed so much to each other earlier that her head was spinning a little. She knew they still had many things to discuss. Ranger had always been so closed off and there was so much she didn't know about him, that dealing with Marc's openness and his requests for such personal information about himself was difficult. But the fact that he wanted her close to him, physically and emotionally, was such a welcome relief, she knew she would endure any amount of discomfort she felt about opening up about herself.

Marc moved to stand in front of her and pulled her up against him. "Is the room satisfactory?"

"Are you kidding? It's gorgeous," Steph said, and then looked coyly up at him through her lashes, "And the bed's quite comfortable."

"Good to know." Marc planted a quick kiss on Steph's lips and then reached for her hand. "Let's take a walk so we can stretch our legs and then grab some dinner," he said.

"What? Need some liquid courage before…" Steph glanced at the bed and grinned, in her own inimitable way testing Marc.

In an instant she was flat on her back and being pressed into the soft mattress by the very hard body of a great smelling Marc Pardo. The dark intense look in his eyes sent a thrill through her, but it was a different, hungrier look than the one she was accustomed to seeing in Ranger's eyes. She began to have second thoughts.

"_Wait_… I'm a little hungry…" Steph stammered, as she felt his warm lips plant a trail of kisses from the back of her ear, down her neck to her décolletage. His lips turned up into a smile against her bare skin as she wavered.

"So am I," Marc uttered as his lips worked their way slowly southward.

Beginning to hyperventilate, Steph squirmed under Marc's body, but that just elicited a groan from him as her hips rolled under him. "Maybe we're rushing things?" she squeaked.

"Stephanie, you do realize how long I've waited for this?"

"Just as long as I have," was her reply. "But… I do better on a full stomach."

His southward migration stopped and he dropped his forehead lightly on her ribs. Then, as quickly as it started, it stopped. He raised his head and saw her wide open eyes. Now was not the right time.

He rose to his feet and pulled her up against him. "Walk first, then food, and then… you and me… in this bed. And I have to warn you, I give great… bed." Two could play at the teasing game.

"Pretty sure of yourself for an amnesiac," Steph quipped, unable to resist pulling the tiger's tail, figuratively speaking.

"I am so going to make you eat those words," Marc challenged, following that with, "among other things."

Another thrill ran down Steph's spine. She tucked her head into his chest to hide her flushed cheeks and then dashed into the bathroom.

A few minutes later, they were strolling hand in hand down the path from the lodge to the lake. They walked along the beach watching the late afternoon sun's rays light up the lake and the waves gently lap onto the sandy shore. It was a peaceful setting and no one else was enjoying the balmy evening down by the lake. They had the tranquil scene all to themselves.

"You may be right," Marc said, out of the blue.

"Huh?" _Real swift comeback there, Steph, focus._

"About rushing things." Marc glanced sideways at her, trying to gauge her mood.

She realized what he was referring to and quickly countered, "_No!_ No, that was just a momentary panic and I _am_ starving. I'll be better after I get some food in my stomach. And dessert. I could really go for some dessert." She smiled to herself. "You probably don't remember, but you love dessert, too. The sweeter, the better."

"Right," he said, shaking his head. "Nice try, mejillas dulces."

"What did you just call me?" she asked, scrunching her forehead up.

"Sweet cheeks." He leaned over and gave her a noisy kiss on each of her cheeks. "Okay. Dinner with dessert it is then."

He stopped walking and pulled her back up against his chest, spoon fashion. They were facing west so they could watch the sunset. From one of the nearby cottages they could hear the strains of music filtering down to the lake. It was a familiar song and Marc began humming along with it as he nuzzled Steph's neck.

_I know just how to whisper_

_And I know just how to cry_

_I know just where to find the answers_

_And I know just how to lie_

_I know just how to fake it_

_And I know just how to scheme_

_I know just when to face the truth_

_And then I know just when to dream_

"Are you going to serenade me again?" she asked, her voice low and sexy.

"Not tonight. Did Ranger ever serenade you?" He stopped nuzzling to listen to her response.

She shook her head and then tilted it, exposing more of her neck, subtly inviting his sensual advances. He didn't hesitate to take her up on her 'offer.'

_And I know just where to touch you_

_And I know just what to prove_

_I know when to pull you closer_

_And I know when to let you loose_

Marc's hands had been on her hips and he slid them across her stomach, pulling her closer. She folded her hands on top of his. They began to sway a little to the music. The lyrics could just barely be discerned.

_And I know the night is fading_

_And I know the time's gonna fly_

_And I'm never gonna tell you_

_Everything I gotta tell you_

_But I know I gotta give it a try_

Marc didn't change position, but he started to speak, his breath hot on her neck. "I'll understand if you want to wait awhile. You were expecting to get Ranger back, and you got me." Steph froze, a confused look crossing her face.

_And I know the roads to riches_

_And I know the ways to fame_

_I know all the rules_

_And I know how to break 'em_

_And I always know the name of the game_

"I don't understand. You're still you, you're still the man I love. It's me that's the stranger to you," she responded.

_But I don't know how to leave you_

_And I'll never let you fall_

_And I don't know how you do it_

_Making love out of nothing at all_

He stopped swaying and assured her, "Steph, the way I feel about you now, as Marc Pardo, convinces me that I will always love you, but you fell in love with Ranger Mañoso, not me. You don't really know me. And as the song says, how do you make love out of nothing at all. Maybe we should take things slow and get to know one another as we are now."

The sun's rays were almost gone, but one shaft of light hit them and the auburn highlights in Steph's mass of curls lit up like a burning ember. He buried his nose in her hair inhaling her scent. Dios, how he wanted her!

_Every time I see you all the rays of the sun_

_Are streaming through the waves in your hair_

_And every star in the sky is taking aim at your eyes_

_Like a spotlight_

His heart was pounding as he thought about what he was saying to her and the way it could very well backfire on him. The thought of losing this 'tesoro brillante' he just found, this 'shining treasure' he held in his arms, sent a cold chill through him.

_The beating of my heart is a drum and it's lost_

_And it's looking for a rhythm like you_

_You can take the darkness from the pit of the night_

_And turn into a beacon burning endlessly bright_

Not quite understanding what he was saying, Steph pulled away from him. Then she spun around and looked him in the eyes. "_That's_ what you think I'm doing? Making love out of nothing?" Her hands flew up and down and up again as she spoke.

Her voice was getting louder. "What about our connection? What about the feeling I get every time I see you, every time I hear your voice, every time you touch me? I know there's some part of you that remembers me. You called out to me that day, when you were falling… I heard you. That was Ranger calling to me… _that was you!_" She stood before him, arms slowly dropping to her side, her chest heaving with emotion.

Marc narrowed his brows in concentration, trying to remember that pivotal moment when he thought he was going to die and then saw Stephanie for the first time. "I don't remember saying your name. I didn't know your name then."

"It wasn't my name you cried, it was…" Steph shook her head and looked away.

Marc lightly grasped her upper arms. "What? What was it?"

She looked down at their feet sunk into the sand and shook her head again. She so desperately wanted him to say it, for him to remember. It wouldn't be the same if he only said it because she expected it, wanted it, no… she needed to hear him call her that again.

His hands were still on her arms and he gently rubbed them up and down. He could feel their mutual pull towards each other; there was no denying they had a connection. But there was still so much they didn't know about one another. And he didn't want Stephanie to expect him to be the man she fell in love with and then be disappointed.

"I've learned a little about the man I used to be and he was impressive. But I'm not that man, not anymore. And, I may never be him again. It's been a year since the explosion and I haven't regained any of my memories."

His hands stilled and she could feel his grip on her arms tighten. "I don't know what I'm going back to in Trenton, or what I have to offer you…" he paused until their eyes met, "But know this, whoever I am, whatever I have, I offer it to you, Querida."

_I've gotta follow it 'cause everything I know_

_Well it's nothing till I give it to you_

Steph felt a lump forming in her throat. She'd waited years for him to say that to her, to offer some sort of commitment and here he was, doing just that. Steph reached up and placed both her hands on the sides of his face. Her eyes were filling with tears and her heart was filling with so much emotion it almost hurt.

"That's more than Ranger ever offered me, until that last day, and you offer it now, not really knowing me at all." She blinked hard squeezing the tears out so she could see his brown eyes clearly. "_I accept_."

Steph rose up on the balls of her feet and leaned toward Marc. He met her halfway, their mouths crashing into one another, their arms encircling each other. The kiss went on and on, as their tongues touched, searched, explored. Their hands were doing the same with their bodies, as if they were touching each other for the first time – which in some ways, they were.

_I can make the runner stumble_

_I can make the final block_

_And I can make every tackle at the sound of the whistle_

_I can make all the stadiums rock_

_I can make tonight forever_

_Or I can make it disappear by the dawn_

_I can make you every promise that has ever been made_

_I can make all your demons be gone_

_But I'm never gonna make it without you_

_Do you really want to see me crawl_

_And I'm never gonna make it like you do_

_Making love out of nothing at all_

The final chorus of the song was winding down, the sun had set and darkness was upon them. And still they were locked in a firm embrace, savoring an endless kiss.

_Making love, Out of nothing at all_

_Making love, Out of nothing at all_

_Making love, Out of nothing at all_

_Making love, Out of nothing at all_

_Making love, Out of nothing at all_

_Making love, Out of nothing at all_

_Making love, Out of nothing at all_

_Making love, Out of nothing at all_

_Making love, Out of nothing at all_

_Making love, Out of nothing at all_

Even breaking apart took forever. They went from kissing to embracing, cheek to cheek. When they pulled a little ways apart, they touched foreheads and breathed in each other's breath. As they finally made their way up the beach to the walkway, Marc's arm was around Steph's shoulders and her arm was tightly clasped around his waist, her head tucked against his shoulder. There were overhead lights above the walkway and spaced at regular intervals were a long row of beach cottages.

Finally, Steph spoke, "Marc, I know you say you don't remember anything from your past, but if you remember me even a little, doesn't it mean everything's still in there, just blocked somehow? There must be a specialist that studies these things. A doctor you can consult with? Or are you saying you don't _want_ to get your memories back?"

He didn't say anything for several hundred yards as they continued strolling. It was the first time she'd seen him hesitate. When he did speak, what he said surprised her. "I've lived so long now without knowing who I was, that I think of the person I used to be as a stranger. I have to admit, on some level it feels like I'd be killing me if, all of a sudden, I could remember myself as Ranger. And Steph, I have to be honest. There are some things about Ranger Mañoso that I don't know if I like."

Steph's eyes got big and her hand tightened its grip around his waist. "Like what?" she asked.

Marc rubbed his hand along his jaw, feeling the stubble rough against his palm. "He's not close to anyone. By your own words, he kept you at a distance and even discarded you by telling you to go back to Joe. He doesn't seem to be close to his family. And his daughter! He stepped up financially, but he doesn't even _know_ his own flesh and blood. Maybe it's because I've felt lost and have been searching for so long, but I don't want to live like that, isolated and alone." The vehemence in his voice was palpable.

"But that isn't all there is to you, to Ranger. He… you are fiercely loyal to your friends and family. You've come to my rescue so many times, and I don't just mean saving me from my stupid blunders, though you have moved heaven and earth to save my life more than once. You've been there for me when I needed a shoulder to cry on, when I needed a car, a job, a place to stay." Trying to lighten the mood, she joked, "You even braved eating dinner with my family. Now, that's a true friend."

He listened intently to her recite his 'good' deeds and knew she wouldn't have fallen in love with a bad man, but there were other reasons for his reluctance. "A man that closed off must have some deep dark secret he is trying to hide or bury… painful or shameful things. Do I want to remember that? I've read about all the horrendous missions I went on and, I could read between the lines. I must have seen and done things _no one_ would want to remember. Maybe it's a blessing I lost my memory?"

"I don't believe that. I know there were things you had to do as an Army Ranger and as a government agent that were awful, but you did them to protect us, to protect America. I'm proud of you for all that you did. I know you carried a lot on your shoulders, but each of those missions shaped the man you are, the man I came to respect and to love."

"That was the man I was," Marc spat out. "I told you, I'm not him any more."

"It isn't that black and white, Marc. It doesn't have to be one way or the other— one person or the other. You're still you. Ranger is still within you. I see it in so many ways. Taking control and getting off the plane so we could have more time together is a classic Ranger move. The rental car, the Porsche? That is _exactly_ the car Ranger would have picked right down to the color. But even if you got your memory back, it would be tempered by all you've experienced and felt over the last year. You wouldn't lose you, the man you've become. People grow, they evolve. This is no different."

"What about us?" His voice got lower and slower the more her impassioned voice rose.

"We will grow and evolve, too. With each other. I see changes in you, but… they are changes I like. I want to get to know you, as you are now and as you will be in the future, _whatever the future holds_, memory or no memory. And… I don't want to take things slow."

Marc stared at Stephanie just for a moment before he pulled her to him, his head lowering until their lips met. With a slight shifting, their bodies moved into alignment with each other until there wasn't any space left between them. They couldn't get enough of each other, kissing and caressing until their passion threatened to overwhelm them. The moon had risen and traveled quite a distance before they finally broke apart.

With the sun gone, the temperature had dropped considerably and a cold breeze was blowing off the lake. Neither of the lovers were dressed for the chillier weather. Without Marc's arms around her, Steph no longer shared his body heat. She shivered and then her stomach rumbled not once but twice. As much as he wanted to continue kissing his woman, Marc took a deep breath and said, "We need to get you indoors and get some food in that empty belly of yours."

They stopped for dinner at a small burger joint they passed on their way back to the lodge. Marc wanted to hold out for something with a more varied menu, but Steph had been smelling the aroma of burgers and French fries as they walked and her stomach was complaining loudly.

He'd never seen anyone enjoy their food more than Stephanie. Her moans and groans were nearly orgasmic. Marc couldn't wait to get her back to their room, but his plans were put on temporary hold. For dessert, she ordered a chocolate milkshake, and then just before they left, she ordered a fried Snickers bar to go.

He had no idea how she could eat like that and still be so trim. She'd confided to him earlier she hated to exercise. At least there was one form of exercise they could share that very night. He had no doubt tonight was going to be one he would never forget and he'd make sure it was one Stephanie would want to repeat over and over again. He couldn't believe they'd only made love once before. That was another thing he didn't like about his past life. He intended to change that, starting tonight. Putting his arm around her shoulders to keep her warm, he picked up the pace as they neared the lodge.

Marc unlocked the door to their room and entered first, moving swiftly through the rooms before returning to Stephanie. He locked the door behind them, but not before hanging the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the outside doorknob.

As Marc started the fire in the fireplace, Steph saw a decanted bottle of wine on the counter of the wet bar. Two wine glasses were lined up next to it along with a silver tray containing a dozen chocolate covered strawberries drizzled with white icing. Another Ranger move. She glanced down at the little white bag holding her fried Snickers bar and then looked back at the strawberries. She was unconsciously chewing on her lower lip.

Marc was suddenly standing behind her, his arms snaking around her waist and his head perched on her shoulder. "You can have both, you don't have to choose."

"I can't choose. I want both of you," she cried and spun, flinging her arms around his neck, as if holding on for dear life.

"I take it we're not talking about sweets," he said softly. He picked her up and settled them both on the couch near the crackling fireplace. Holding her on his lap, he rubbed small circles along the small of her back as she cried into his shoulder.

"Querida, getting my memories back won't change anything. I'll love you either way, nothing is going to change that. And weren't you the one who just told me that whatever happens, we'll grow and evolve together?"

Steph sniffled and wiped her wet cheeks and runny nose on the back of her sleeve. She croaked hoarsely, "I'm a mess. My mind is bouncing all over the place. Are you sure you can still love a mixed up, screwed up, blubbering fool like me?"

"Sí, te amo," he whispered, continuing to stroke her back. "From where I sit, you're no fool. You're a successful, and beautiful, Federal agent who always gets her man and solves the case. And you are a fiercely loyal friend, to quote someone I respect. I couldn't be prouder of you, Querida. I think we both are feeling a little uneasy about the future. Everything I've heard and read about my 'earlier' self is that he was perceived as larger than life. I get the impression he cultivated that image on purpose. I guess living the kind of dangerous, even violent life he did made such a reputation necessary."

Steph nodded. "Ranger was definitely a badass and everyone knew it. And it was not just a bluff; he could back up his words with instant action. It is one of the reasons he was so successful. No one wanted to cross him."

"Steph, I have to be honest. If I don't regain my memory, I don't know if I can live that same kind of life, if I _want _to live like that."

"Well, your government contract is over, so you don't have to do that anymore. It might mean you'd have a lot to learn about running RangeMan, but Tank can help you with that. Marc, that company is your baby. You put everything into it. You…Ranger ran a tight ship and you were in control of every aspect. Your employees respond well to your strong leadership. Anything less may not sit well with them."

The fire crackled and popped as they both sat on the couch, holding one another. Minutes went by and neither spoke, content to be in each other's arms. But their minds were hashing and rehashing the events and conversations of the day.

Finally, Marc spoke up, "I've given a lot of thought to this, and as soon as we get back to Trenton, I'd like to see a specialist. Someone who can tell me if there's any possibility of getting my memory back. I don't know if we're talking surgery or therapy or… acupuncture, but I have to give it my best effort."

"Alright. That way we'll know, one way or the other." She moved her head until her ear was directly over his heart and the steady beat soothed her.

He continued, "Now that my name has been officially cleared and I don't have to worry about foreign agents trying to kill me, I need to see about 'coming back from the dead.' Since my employees know me as Ranger Mañoso, I want to keep it that way, but you… I would like it if you would call me Carlos."

Stephanie raised her head and studied his face. He was beautiful. She stroked his brow and then his cheek. He had strong cheekbones, a straight nose and full lips. His eyes and his smile were his best features, though all of him was near perfect. Running her fingers through his hair, she realized she missed the longer length, a little.

"Carlos…" she said, as if trying it on for size. "It seems so personal. So intimate. I like it. Carlos it is, then." She leaned in and kissed his full lips lightly and leaned back again.

"Querida, as long as you're by my side, I can handle any outcome. I know I'll land on my feet, whatever comes. Are you with me?"

For an answer, Steph put her arms around his neck and kissed him with all the love and passion she felt in her heart and soul.

Wine and strawberries forgotten, Carlos stood up with Stephanie in his arms and strode into the bedroom.

AN: Song is _'Making Love Out Of Nothing At All'_ by Air Supply. And yes, Steph eventually got to eat her dessert. And so did Carlos.


	39. Chapter 39 Ranger Mañoso 101

**Chapter 39—Ranger Mañoso 101**

_Life isn't about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself._

Although the draperies were closed, the early morning light seeped through them, brightening the darkened room. Still lying in bed, Stephanie stretched her body like a cat just waking from a long slumber. Only Steph hadn't been sleeping for very long.

She and Marc… no, she and Carlos had made love most of the night and it was unlike any sexual experience she'd ever had, even when comparing it to that singular time with Ranger. The difference was that she was in love. And the man she was in love with, loved her too. The sex was phenomenal; she'd expected that. But the depth of emotion they both felt for one another pushed their passion to new heights that neither of them had ever been to before. There was no holding back, no competition, no embarrassment and, best of all, no doubts or guilt.

Their first time was quick, passionate and explosive. Neither of them could wait. After they got their breathing under control, Stephanie told Carlos she was going to take a bath.

As she got to the bathroom door, she glanced back at his deliciously naked hard body as he lay relaxed on the bed. With a saucy wink, she disappeared into the luxurious master bathroom intending to soak in the large claw-footed tub. Carlos had other ideas. He joined her before she even turned on the water. Dragging her into the shower, he turned them so the initial cold spray hit his back as he massaged her neck with his questing lips. They took turns thoroughly soaping each other's body, spending an unnecessarily long, but satisfying time in the process.

When they stepped out of the shower, neither of them bothered to wrap themselves in a towel. Stephanie tackled her damp tangled curls while Carlos shaved. They watched each other in the large gilded mirror that was still fogged around the edges, silly smiles plastered on their faces. But soon, the sexual tension got to be too much for them.

Racing back to the bed, they fell into the messy pile of sheets, their arms and legs entangled with each other. Mouths kissed whatever body part was closest; hands fondled and stroked bare skin concentrating on erogenous zones and areas that elicited the loudest moans and groans. If anyone had been listening, they would have heard cries of 'Don't' and 'Stop,' but the two lovers knew what really was being said was, 'Don't stop!'

The second time was still passionate and explosive, but certainly not quick. They took their time reacquainting themselves with each other's bodies, each acutely attuned to what delighted the other.

When they began their third time, they expected it to be another hot passionate sexual encounter, but emotion took over for both of them. Each touch, each kiss was slow and quiet, almost reverential. Carlos couldn't take his eyes off Stephanie as she fell under his magic touch, stroking and caressing her to one orgasm after another. When Carlos entered Stephanie it was more from a desire to become one with her, rather than slake a sexual need. Their eyes locked on one another as Carlos slid his hard cock into her, each reveling in watching the other's facial expressions radiate pleasure and becoming even more aroused by the sighs and whispers of ecstasy their kisses and moving bodies caused.

Covering her body with his, overcome with emotion, Carlos poured out his love for her in words of Spanish. He was on the verge of losing control as evidenced by his eyes shining with unspilt tears. Stephanie knew, without a doubt, that Carlos loved her and that this was the first time she had ever made love before. All the other times, even the time with Ranger, had been only sex. And Carlos was certain that he'd never experienced this emotional high before. When he spilled his seed within her, his tears spilled from his eyes unabashedly. They lay side by side, basking in the sexual and emotional afterglow of the moment, unable to bear breaking contact.

Their lovemaking continued through the night, with them only resting or sleeping for an hour or so between orgasms. In the beginning, it was Carlos initiating their sexual encounters, but when he started to slow down, Stephanie picked up the pace. She found Carlos liked her on top, a novel and rewarding experience for her. He let her control their movements and tempo, thrilling in her sensuality and wanton lust for him. He never imagined to find her so compatible with his desires and tastes, but it was like they were in sync with each other without the need to speak or give direction.

Their last encounter happened just after dawn. Carlos woke Stephanie up with kisses starting at her ear and moving south. Stephanie was thrilled that Carlos loved to kiss and kiss everywhere. He never appeared to be in a rush or go straight in for the kill. He took his sweet time and enjoyed the journey as well as the destination. By the time he reached her breasts, she couldn't feign sleep anymore and got in the game. Pushing him onto his back, she slid her body down his rock hard length kissing as much of his creamy mocha latte skin as she could until her tongue dipped into his belly button and then followed the thin trail of curling hairs downward. Carlos inhaled sharply as she took him into her mouth and gave him the same kind of pleasure he'd given her over and over. He could only take so much of her devoted ministrations before he rolled her under him. It was Stephanie's turn to gasp out loud when, with one smooth stroke, he filled her completely. The sex was just as amazing as the first time had been.

After they'd sated themselves, Carlos playfully slapped her butt cheeks and told her he was going for a run on the beach. Steph smiled and burrowed back under the covers. She liked that he didn't even ask her to join him. He was learning.

When he returned, they showered again, and then headed downstairs for the lodge's breakfast buffet. Steph packed away a huge plateful of scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, hash browns, pancakes covered with butter and maple syrup, and a few pieces of juicy cantaloupe. Carlos satisfied his appetite with a few hefty spoonfuls of scrambled eggs, a slice of unbuttered whole grain toast and a half plate full of sliced fruit topped with plain Greek yogurt.

Back in their room, Steph went through her overnight bag searching for any unworn clothes. When she'd packed, she thought she'd only be gone for one night and hadn't packed very much. Sniffing each item of clothing, she selected the freshest and started to dress. Again, Carlos had other ideas. Good thing they hadn't made up the bed yet.

A few hours and several orgasms later, they raced each other down the stairs laughing and sliding up to the reception desk just under the wire of the lodge's check out time. Carlos couldn't believe how silly he was acting, but after that amazing night of sex and intimacy, he was feeling light and playful and Stephanie's enthusiasm was contagious. Carlos loaded up the Porsche with their bags and they headed out to the Interstate to continue their drive east to Trenton.

Steph pulled her cell phone out intending to call Tank and let him know when they would arrive, but Carlos snatched it out of her hand.

"Hey, I was just calling Tank," Steph cried, reaching for her phone.

Carlos pocketed it and turned his head slowly from side to side, his lips mouthing, 'No.' He didn't want to give anyone time to gather a party together again. When he met his friends and family, he wanted it on his own terms.

Over the next several hours as they drove towards Trenton, Carlos and Stephanie discussed their past and future life together. He asked searching questions about his past and Steph did her best to answer all that she could. They both realized how little Ranger had shared with her regarding the details of his life, reaffirming Carlos' opinion that he didn't want to return to Ranger's solitary existence. He didn't see himself becoming an open book to just anyone, but he knew he didn't want to keep secrets from the woman he loved.

At Carlos' insistence, Stephanie reluctantly recounted some of the more dangerous incidents she'd been involved in as a bounty hunter and as a victim of stalkers and crazies. She told him about their first meeting when Ranger agreed to be her mentor. He was amused by her tales of his mentorship trials and tribulations. Carlos learned her first skip had been her old boyfriend, Joe, which floored him and raised a whole new set of questions.

When she described her violent run-ins with Benito Ramirez, he had to pull the car over and calm down. Fearing an even worse reaction, she sped through an abbreviated version of the traumas that Clyde Cone, Spiro and Con Stiva, the Comstock Street Slayers and Victor Gorvich had put her through. She briefly mentioned the DeChooch case, which took she and Ranger to Richmond, Virginia to rescue two of her high school friends, Mooner and Dougie. Carlos could tell she was holding something back and finally coaxed her into revealing the 'deal' they'd made for his assistance in bringing in Eddie DeChooch. Carlos uttered an expletive when he realized their first time making love was him 'collecting' on an asinine, contrived debt.

After his emotional reaction to the hell Ramirez had put her through, Steph purposely put off telling him about Scrog. Maybe later.

As she related the above incidents, she also told him about his involvement in many of the cases and included accounts of the tremendous resources and manpower he'd expended to keep her safe. She was glad he could laugh about her being the impetus for the loss of many of his vehicles and for 'breaking' his men, such as Tank's broken leg and sore nuts, Hal's 'stunning' and Cal's concussion.

Three quarters of the way through her recital of the terrifying episode with Eddie Abruzzi, she stopped. Everything she knew about Abruzzi's untimely death was conjecture. After hearing about Abruzzi's threats and torture of Stephanie and her sister Valerie, Carlos was beginning to gain a new perspective into his former self. He wanted to kill Abruzzi after just _hearing_ about his heinous deeds; he didn't think he'd have much guilt over killing the scum if he'd actually experienced the events. Carlos could see she was too upset to continue that discussion and changed subjects, asking her about her family.

Steph told him humorous details about her parents and about Valerie's two marriages, and in particular, warned him about her Grandma Mazur. She also told him what she knew of his family.

Sonia had invited her to the Mañoso family Sunday dinner about a month ago and Steph met not only Carlos' father and siblings, but all their spouses and children and various aunts, uncles and cousins. She'd even met Carlos' grandmother, Abuela Rosa. Names had become a blur, so she could only tell him about his immediate family members and even then, she didn't know that much about them. During her visit, they'd wanted to hear all about her jungle adventures in Venezuela and the tribe Carlos had lived with and then all about finding him in San Francisco.

The Mañosos were a very different family from hers. Noisy, boisterous and very affectionate, she had a hard time reconciling their warm embrace of her with the stoic impassive Ranger. As she related to Carlos the information she'd learned about his family, she was laughing inside imagining the first time they saw him. He would be mobbed and fussed over like the returning prodigal son he was. He would hate it!

She told him all she could about RangeMan and the men who worked for him. Listening to the things she thought were important for him to know, he realized how different men and women were. Tank had given him the facts and figures; Stephanie told him personal things about each man, their temperaments and histories. He learned the only other woman he employed was Ella Guzman, his housekeeper, who was more like a trusted family member than an employee. Stephanie made sure he knew what made these people tick, how to win them over and erase any doubts they may have concerning him returning as head of RangeMan, Inc.

He knew he wanted Stephanie in his life. He hadn't known she could be such a valuable asset to him in his business dealings. That thought gave him some new ideas to mull over. She'd told him about Pax's job offer with the DEA, but she hadn't indicated which way she was leaning. He needed to know her desires before he went too far with his plans for her. He knew she was fiercely independent and refused to be controlled or manipulated in any way. He had his work cut out for him.

They'd both been silent for awhile when Steph starting bouncing up and down and yelling for him to get off the freeway. Carlos finally figured out she was hungry and had seen a sign for cheesesteaks. They'd been so pre-occupied with their conversation, neither had realized how much time had passed and they were now in Pennsylvania. Hoping there was more on the menu than fat-filled beef and canned orange foam, Carlos exited the Interstate and wound his way through the surface streets to give his lover what she desired: a cheesesteak 'wit' Cheez Whiz and a large Coke. He settled on a mushroom pepper steak, promising himself to do an extra hour of cardio tomorrow. What one does for love, he sighed to himself.

Back on the freeway with Trenton looming in the distance, Carlos started thinking about the people he'd be meeting for the first time. Since they'd know things about him and about their past interactions, he'd be at a disadvantage. In particular, he was curious to learn more about his role in breaking up Steph and her old boyfriend.

He reached over the console for her hand. She readily clasped his, their fingers entwining. It felt so easy and natural, which was a new experience for both of them.

"Do you feel up to talking about Joe?" he asked.

Steph momentarily stiffened. The last time she'd seen Joe was at Pino's with Pax. The chance encounter hadn't gone well. She could just imagine the snide comments Joe would make about her returning with 'dead man walking' Ranger. If Carlos was present when Joe said something like that, then all hell would break loose. In the past, Ranger and Joe had always maintained a professional respect for each other and had managed to avoid any physical confrontation. Now, she wasn't sure how Carlos would react to Joe's aggressive, obnoxious behavior of late. And she didn't want to find out.

"Is it really necessary? We broke up over a year ago," Steph replied, her body involuntarily fidgeting.

"I don't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just have a few questions."

Steph nodded and stared out the passenger window, taking a sip of her soda every few minutes.

"How long were you together?"

Steph sighed. "About four years, on and off."

"Were you just dating, engaged or what?"

Steph snorted. "Yes, yes and yes." She turned to look at Carlos. "It's compli…"

Carlos chimed in, "…cated. Yeah, I heard that one before. How big is he?"

Steph chuckled. "He's slightly taller than you, but you have more muscle." She didn't think Carlos was worried about Joe, but was just trying to make her smile. It worked. "If you're thinking of duking it out with him, know that he had a reputation as a barroom brawler in his younger days. And, by the way, he's now a cop, so he carries a gun."

"A cop? Wouldn't I run into him being in the security and fugitive apprehension business?"

"Occasionally," she admitted. "He's a detective for the Trenton Police Department. I think you and he ran into each other, though, mainly because of me and my bounty hunting escapades." Steph grimaced. "He's not fond of you and you barely tolerate him."

"Would my poaching on his girlfriend have anything to do with his not being 'fond' of me?"

Steph spewed soda through her nose. Carlos' reference to 'poaching' was too close for comfort. "I don't think Joe knew about that, but he knew you looked at me the same way he did and that was enough to raise his territorial hackles. He used to call you a loose cannon and hinted that he thought you didn't operate on the up and up."

"Was he the only one who thought that about me?"

Steph shook her head. "No one knew… knows very much about you, and well, you know people. They like to talk about what they don't know, so there has been lots of speculation about you and your men."

"RangeMan is an extremely successful company, so I must be doing something right. I don't care if people talk about me; as long as I have a clear conscience."

Steph stated emphatically, "I've been working for RangeMan for over a year now and I can tell you that Tank runs a tight, above-board ship. He makes sure everyone follows your strict company policies and stays this side of the law. Anyone who steps a toe over the line, gets called to the mats."

That sounded about right for a bunch of macho ex-soldiers. Cutting pay could be a disincentive for undisciplined behavior, but losing face in a physical confrontation would be even worse. Carlos grinned, "Please tell me Tank never took you to the mats?" Steph smiled at the thought, then shook her head.

Carlos went back to his original line of questioning. "You said Joe had a professional respect for me?"

"Well, there were times you and your company could be useful to the police department, so he knew he had to work with you. But he hated that _I_ worked with you and did everything he could to stop it."

"What's 'everything'?" Carlos' jaw tightened as he imagined the things an angry man might do to 'persuade' a woman to obey him.

Steph noticed Carlos' rigid posture and tried to reassure him. "Joe never hit me, he just yelled a lot. He tried repeatedly to get me to quit bounty hunting. He complained whenever he knew you had anything to do with one of my cases or when I would help you. There was one time you were forced to hide out in my one-bedroom apartment – we were NOT sleeping together – and Joe decided to move in too, all in the name of protecting me. That was too much testosterone and chest beating for me so I left."

"I could see where that might have led to an interesting night. I can't imagine that I would have tolerated you sleeping with him while I was there."

"You pretty much said that to me that night and I figured Joe planned on sharing my bed with me. I had to get out of there so I climbed down the fire escape, but Tank ratted me out. I went to my parents' house for the night. I have no idea what you and Joe finally did." She gave him an odd look.

"Even though I don't remember any of this, I can assure you, your old boyfriend and I _did not_ share a bed." Carlos shot me a serious look. "Does Joe know you and I slept together—that time you were broken up?"

She shook her head. "I never told him. It wouldn't have served any purpose."

Steph's jaw clenched and released. "I don't want you to think I cheat on my boyfriends. If I can say one thing in my defense, Joe and I had a weird ambiguous relationship. When I wanted a commitment from him, he wasn't ready and vice versa. We broke up every few months. I don't know what he did when we were apart; I was too afraid to ask. And he didn't ask what I did either."

After a minute's contemplation, she continued, "I admit I was attracted to you and had a hard time keeping our relationship purely professional, despite the guilt I felt. The funny thing is, Joe always seem to be running into his old girlfriend, supposedly because of his work. I think we both had a problem maintaining strict fidelity with each other, which should have been a red flag for both of us."

Steph blew out a big breath. "My first husband cheated on me with my childhood nemesis before the ink was dry on our marriage license and that really got to me. By the way, if I catch you anywhere around a red-headed barracuda named Joyce Barnhardt, cover your jewels, because I'll kick first and ask questions later." That got an arched eyebrow from Carlos. "Anyway, I tried hard to keep my distance from you, but you had this force field around you that sucked me in every time."

"My animal magnetism?" he said with a grin.

Steph rolled her eyes. "Something like that."

"What's Joe's last name?"

"Back to him again? Morelli. Joseph Morelli, the quintessential Italian Stallion. He used to be a womanizing, brawling, hard drinking son of a gun. The classic bad boy all mothers warned their daughters to stay away from."

Carlos shot her a quizzical look, and Steph rolled her eyes. "Yes. I was sucked in by his charms, movie star good looks and questionable reputation. So, sue me!"

"Am I seeing a pattern here?"

With a snicker in her voice, Steph quipped, "Are you saying you think you're charming and good looking?" She looked sideways at Carlos, "I'll give you the badass reputation, but as for the others..."

His hand snaked out and tickled her just under her arm and down across her ribs, reducing her to giggles and squirms. She slapped his hand away and pushed herself up against the passenger door.

"Uncle, uncle. Okay, you are a _little_ charming and _somewhat_ good looking." Carlos started to reach for her again. She shrieked in mock fear and shouted, "Alright! You're a LOT more charming and MUCH better looking than Joe."

"Damn skippy!" he said with a straight face, but there was a twinkle in his eye.

"Uh, Carlos… I wouldn't use that phrase around your men, if I were you. It's OK for me, but…"

"Too pansy-assed for a badass, huh?" he dead-panned.

Steph grinned. "Well, I would never call you a pansy, but you can be an as…" Carlos' hand snaked toward her ribs again and she flinched, giggled and recovered, "austere man, you know, a man of few words. You tend to let your quiet but intimidating presence speak for you."

"So, you see me as the strong silent type?"

"That would be part of my description of you."

"What else would you say about me?"

"Are you fishing for compliments, Batman?"

"Querida."

Steph leaned over and kissed his cheek and said in a low sexy voice, "I would say that you are a fantastic lover with a skillful pair of hands, a magic pair of lips and a magnificently large…"

Carlos arched his eyebrow at her again and interrupted, "I get the picture."

A wide grin spread across her face. "Oooh, can I have a picture? Lula would go absolutely ape over a picture of your..."

"Querida, please." Carlos lifted his hand and pinched the bridge between his eyes.

"Okay, I'll stop. But it _is_ magnificent." Steph let her hand trail south across his ribs.

Carlos grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips. "What am I going to do with you?"

"I have a few ideas," she quipped, lifting her eyebrows up several times in quick succession.

He was enjoying their easy banter and obvious loving connection. He kissed her hand again and laid it against his cheek. "The harder question is, What would I do without you, Querida?"

"Don't ever try to find out. Now that I've got you, you're mine and I'm not letting you go." Steph entwined her fingers with his for emphasis.

"Right back at you, especially the MINE part. Joe may have been okay with sharing you, but I don't share. To be clear, I consider us a couple. I will never cheat on you and I expect the same from you. Trust and honesty are paramount to me." He pulled her hand back up to his lips and kissed her palm. "I love you, Stephanie," he said, knowing that those few words didn't come close to expressing the depth and intensity of his feelings for her. He made himself a solemn vow never to be separated from her, ever again.

Her heart swelled at his declaration of love and even his possessiveness was touching. Ranger had said something similar to her, but of course, back then it was all theoretical. Just having him be so physically attentive was surprising enough, but to have him open up and share his feelings with her was astounding. Would all this have happened if he hadn't lost his memory? Would it all go away if he regained it? She snuggled in closer to him.

"You're 'it' for me, the only one I want, Carlos. I just love saying your name. Carrrlos," she said, trilling the 'r'. "Will you miss being called Marc?"

He shook his head. "I'm glad to finally know and use my real name. Now, I have to make it mine again."

They drove in silence for awhile. They were approaching Philadelphia and rush hour traffic was picking up. Trenton was only about forty minutes away.

"Querida, I have one more question." He waited until he had her full attention. "Why did you leave Morelli?"

Steph was quiet for several minutes. "We wanted different things. I like working and he wanted me to be a housewife. He wanted kids and I don't think I do." Steph's eyes got big and she spun around to face Carlos. "Do you? Do you want kids? I mean, besides Julie?"

"I haven't given much thought to children. I was stunned to learn I had a teenage daughter. I guess I could go either way, depending on what you wanted."

"So, if I don't want kids, you're okay with that?"

"Yes, Querida, I'm okay with that."

"I do have a dependent, though. He means a lot to me. His name is Rex."

Carlos looked at her with questioning eyes. Steph smiled and said, "He's a hamster."

Carlos let out a hearty laugh. "So I'm going to be a stepdad to a rodent?"

"A _hamster_. He's cute and adorable and doesn't take up too much space. And he's a great listener."

"Whatever you say. How do you feel about Julie? I'd like to get to know her and spend some time with her. Will that be a problem?"

"Absolutely not. I love Julie. She's definitely your daughter. A real fighter!"

"You know her? You've spent time with her? Tell me what she's like?"

Steph hesitated. Was now the time to tell him about Scrog? Was there any good time? "I've met Julie a few times, but they were under unusual circumstances."

"You aren't going to tell me _it's complicated_?"

Steph blew out a big breath. "The last time I saw Julie was at your 'funeral' and it wasn't a very happy event, I can tell you." Carlos nodded, trying to imagine his family's reaction to learning he was dead. So much had happened back home while he was with the Ye'kuana and then in San Francisco.

She continued, "The first time we met was a bit more 'out there.' It was about three years ago. Julie was ten. She lives in Miami with your ex-wife Rachel and her husband Ronald Martine. Ron adopted Julie when she was just a toddler. The Martines also have a couple of kids of their own. Julie is happy and well adjusted. She is a smart, beautiful young girl and takes after you in looks and stubbornness." She smiled at Carlos to take the sting out of her last comment.

"Before I go any further, Carlos, you need to know that it all turned out okay and Julie is fine. Anyway, Julie was kidnapped by an unbalanced man named Edward Scrog. Scrog became obsessed by you and in his crazy mind, wanted to become you. Not like you, but actually become you. He stalked you and found out about me and about Julie. He thought if he possessed what you had and then got rid of you, his life would be 'perfect' like yours." At that last statement, Carlos let out a single sharp laugh and muttered, "Perfect?"

At first his voice was incredulous. "Please tell me you're pulling my leg? This is like something out of a bad movie." Then his voice became hard and insistent. "What happened? Did he hurt Julie… or you?"

She shook her head. "Julie was drugged and scared, but he didn't hurt her. You were so proud of her and so was I. She kept her wits about her and she ended up saving your life. She is definitely your daughter, even if you didn't spend much time with her when she was a child. You can change that now. She wants to get to know you."

Carlos had his hand over his mouth as she talked, a concerned look in his eyes. "Start at the beginning and tell me the whole story," he stated, his voice flat, his expression blank.

Steph began with her first meeting with Carmen Mañoso and wrapped up with Julie shooting Scrog. As she finished, Carlos rubbed the scar on his neck and shook his head. "Dios, I put you in incredible danger, and Julie…"

"Don't go there, Carlos. You were not responsible for that. There are sick people out there. No one can control that kind of thing. Shit happens. We deal with it the best way we know how. I would do what I did again in a heartbeat, and so would Julie. When you walked into my apartment to face Scrog, that's when I knew for sure that I loved you. And then, when Scrog shot you, I thought I'd lost you and I went crazy." He reached out and stroked her hair and then rubbed her shoulder, waiting for her to calm down.

Finally, she was able to continue. "We went back to just being friends after that, but everything changed for me. It just took me time to realize you were the only man for me, even if all I would ever have from you is your friendship. You've saved my life so many times. I owe you my life several times over."

"We have quite some history together, don't we?" Carlos said.

"Yep. And I am expecting quite some future with you, too."

"I hope our future doesn't have any more stalkers or crazies in it. But I guess I'd better get used to carrying a gun, just in case."

"Make that two guns and a knife."

"Querida."


	40. Chapter 40 RangeMan, Inc

**Chapter 40 — RangeMan, Inc.**

_There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged_

_to find the ways in which you yourself have altered._

Stephanie played navigator as Carlos drove into Trenton and they made their way through the late afternoon traffic to the RangeMan offices on Haywood. Steph had her key fob with her so they pulled right into the garage and parked in one of the spaces that had always been reserved for Ranger. Even after he'd been declared dead, no one at RangeMan had parked there, in deference to his memory.

By the time Carlos pulled their bags from the Porsche, the stairwell door burst open and a flood of black-clad men piled out. Bobby and Lester were in the lead and rushed the couple before they got two steps away from the car.

Lester slapped Carlos on his upper arm and chided, "You old dog! It's just like you to miss your own 'back from the dead' party. I hope Steph made last night worth your while." Lester winked, a huge grin on his face.

Bobby stepped immediately between Les and Carlos and said, "It's good to have you back, Ranger. You had us worried there for awhile."

Bobby stuck out his hand intending to introduce himself, and Carlos grasped it, saying, "Thanks, Brown. It's good to be back." Bobby's eyes got big at the mention of his last name.

Over his shoulder, Carlos barked, "Santos, mats, tomorrow morning, 5 sharp."

Lester whipped his head around and stared at Carlos' back, dumbfounded not by the rebuke, but by the fact that Carlos knew who he was. All the employees at RangeMen had been briefed about Ranger's memory loss and had expected to have to reintroduce themselves to their boss and friend. Had he somehow regained his memory overnight?

Carlos strode through the cluster of his men, shaking hands and addressing each employee by his name. Stephanie followed a pace or two behind. He left a stunned group of Merry Men in his wake, each shaking their heads that he'd known their names.

Tank had been the last to exit from the stairs, calmly and unhurriedly. Ranger stopped in front of the big man and briefly clasped his shoulder. Their eyes met and held for a moment and then Carlos gathered Stephanie to him and proceeded to the elevator.

They both stepped in and before the elevator door closed, Carlos leaned out and said, "We're both offline until morning."

Once they were inside, Carlos hit seven and Stephanie broke out in a fit of giggles. She'd get herself under control for a few seconds and then start giggling all over again. When she started to speak, Carlos pulled her to him and kissed her, effectively stopping her from saying anything. They got to the seventh floor and Carlos used Steph's fob to let themselves into the penthouse apartment.

The door had barely closed when Steph cried, "Did you see their faces? Priceless! I'm so glad you had this great idea." With both hands raised to her head, she reached under her halo of curls and removed the tiny wireless mic. "They're not going to know what to think."

Carlos set their bags down and took the miniature earphone from his ear. As he handed it to her, she folded up the mic and tucked both pieces in her purse. He automatically dropped the keys in the silver tray on the credenza and said, "You forgot to tell me the elevator had cameras. I wasn't sure if they were wired for sound too, but I didn't want you giving our little secret away."

"So, you weren't kissing me because you couldn't get enough of me? You just wanted to shut me up?" She gave him a look of mock anger.

"Yeah, much like now." He'd wanted to do this all day. He moved her against the foyer wall and lifting both her hands over her head, he pinned her wrists to the wall and lowered his mouth to hers. He didn't stop there. With his leg pressed between hers, he kissed her jaw, and the sensitive spot behind her ear and then trailed a series of kisses down her neck.

After a particularly deep moan, Stephanie managed to utter, "In case you're interested, the bedroom is on your left… through the office."

Carlos grinned and swept her up in his arms, walking through the arch into the living room. He took a quick glance at the kitchen and dining area and then moved toward the bedroom. He strode all the way to the bed and gently deposited Steph on it. Kneeling before her, he removed her shoes while she unzipped her slacks. With a firm tug, Carlos slid her pants off and flung them across the room.

Carlos stood and in seconds, his slacks followed hers. They both unbuttoned and then lifted off their shirts. Sliding in the bed beside her, Carlos gathered Stephanie to him and began the kissing routine all over again. After several minutes of some very passionate French kissing, Carlos raised his head and looked at the flushed face of his Querida.

"Just out of curiosity, when we 'did it,' as you so quaintly put it, that first time, was it here, in this bed?"

"You want to know that _now?_ Because I'm really turned on and not in the mood for any chit chat." She tried to pull his head down closer to hers, but he grinned at her futile attempt and said, "Just answer the question."

Steph blew a raspberry directly in his face and snapped, "_No_. It was in my old apartment. And if you're thinking of repeating it, _fuhgeddaboutit_. My grandma lives there now and turned it into a replica of a French bordello. Just the thought of doing it there makes my stomach queasy."

"Good. Then we'll be christening this bed. And then we can christen the shower and the couch and the desk…" he lowered his body on top of hers and neither of them spoke, conversationally that is, for a long time.

. . .

Carlos took the two flights of stairs down and stepped through the door to the fifth floor. It was a little before 4 a.m. He could feel himself changing the second he entered the control room. His mind and body went on high alert and he felt… like Ranger, or at least what he assumed Ranger probably 'felt' like.

There were two men on duty monitoring the security cameras and phones. Luckily, the men had been present yesterday when he and Steph had arrived so he knew their names. He stood behind them and watched as they brought up location after location on the screens, making sure all was safe and secure. He quietly asked several questions designed to bring himself up to speed on clients and on any new security measures and equipment put in place during his absence. Ranger studied the screens, the computer monitors and the switchboard and each movement the men made. By the time he left, he was confident he could step in if needed.

He glanced in his and Tank's dark offices and noted the efficient layout in each. The floor layout also had a series of office cubicles, a break room and a conference room, and across the hall was the gym, his next destination.

The gym was state of the art and filled with the best exercise equipment money could buy. Ranger started his morning workout and had just broke into a sweat when Lester strolled in.

With a brief head nod, they both marched over to the mats and squarely faced off. Out of the corner of his eye, Ranger noticed several employees had entered the gym and were feigning exercising. In reality, they'd come down early to watch the sparring match between he and Santos, taking bets on how bad Santos would trounce the impaired amnesiac. Everyone had heard how seriously Ranger'd been injured two months earlier with the gunshot wound to his shoulder.

Knowing human nature, Ranger had anticipated and, indeed, planned on a large number of his men showing up.

He and Santos circled each other before Les swung out with his leg, hoping to knock Ranger to the mats. Ranger easily evaded the obvious move and responded with a sharp kick to Les' thigh, shoving him off balance. Ranger immediately followed with a series of quick, hard jabs to his opponent's upper body. Lester tried again and again to get the upper hand, but Ranger countered each and every move. Ranger changed from an offensive stance to a defensive one as Lester stepped up his aggression level. The two danced around each other, each throwing punches and kicks until Santos executed a successful feint and threw Ranger to the mats. But, in an instant, Ranger reversed their positions with a maneuver Les had never seen before. He found himself hopelessly pinned down by a smiling Ranger.

The crowd surrounding the mats gasped. First, they were surprised Ranger had got out of such a strong hold and been able to pin Lester and second, they were stunned to see Ranger smiling. All the men knew each other's fighting styles, but Ranger had shown them he'd gained a wealth of new moves during the time he'd been gone. And he'd openly smiled! This was a man not only not impaired, but improved.

His men had been prepared to cut Ranger some slack given his assumed infirmities; some had even felt pity for him. But after yesterday and this morning's demonstrations, they knew their boss was back, at least in the areas that mattered.

Ranger extended his hand to Lester, who was still sitting on the mat. Les accepted the reconciliatory gesture and let Ranger help him up. The waiting men respectfully acknowledged the victorious Ranger with a nod and gave Lester vigorous slaps to his shoulder and back as he headed to the locker room. To lose to the boss man wasn't considered a mark of shame, especially when the boss was Ranger Mañoso. And it was becoming obvious to all RangeMen that Ranger was back.

As Ranger was leaving the gym, he passed by Tank leaning against the doorjamb. Tank gave a slight shake of his head and chuckled. The two men did a fist bump and then Ranger ran down the hall to the stairs eager to get back to Stephanie.

He took the stairs two at a time and burst out into the anteroom on seven. Entering the apartment he relaxed, pleased with the execution of his first supervisory task. He'd hoped one of his men would put a toe over the line sometime during his first few days back so he could 'prove' he was still the leader of the pack. From what he'd learned from Steph, Santos was a brave and fierce soldier, but in his down times he often let his mouth flap a bit too much. Les had given Ranger the opening he needed with the off-color comment about Stephanie.

What none of the men at RangeMan knew, not even Tank, was that Ranger had been actively exercising and practicing different forms of wrestling and martial arts the entire year he'd been gone.

First, wrestling with the men of the Ye'kuana, he relearned his sense of centering his body and using the slightest strength _or_ weakness to his advantage. And since there were no mats or protective equipment in the village, he quickly learned how to safely fall and avoid crushing arm and leg holds.

Second, after he settled in San Francisco and got the night security job, he searched around for a gym that specialized in one of the more difficult forms of self-defense, Krav Maga. The gym he selected offered instruction in one of the newer iterations of this ever-evolving form of adaptable martial arts. The gym's owner was reluctant to take on Marc/Ranger at first, but after Marc demonstrated his considerable potential with his first test match, the surprised gym owner put Marc in his advanced class. By the time Marc left San Francisco, he'd earned the title of master.

Even while he'd been recovering from his gunshot wound at Fort Carson, he'd kept up with his workouts and found many soldiers eager to spar with him.

Ranger entered the apartment and, as he gazed on the still sleeping Stephanie, he felt the hyper-awareness and tension leave his body. Leaning against the bedroom door, Carlos watched her sleep for a while, still disbelieving all that had happened between them the past two days and nights. She had a sweetness about her in slumber that she managed to hide when awake. Stephanie liked to project a tough, professional, business-like face to the world. But, in actuality, she was a tender-hearted, caring and forgiving innocent, if in fact anyone with her negative exposure to so many depraved individuals could be called innocent. Carlos took one last loving look at the woman who had held his heart for so many years and then disappeared into the bathroom to get ready for his first day back at work.

Halfway through his shower, a warm-from-the-bed naked Stephanie joined him. They kissed and embraced and then Stephanie shrieked, "Bulgari!" Startled by her high-pitched yell, Carlos stepped back knocking the bottle of shower gel to the tile floor. Steph bent over to retrieve the precious item and got gently goosed for her efforts.

"If you're going to wiggle that part of your anatomy in front of me, expect to be ravaged," he growled, pulling her to him.

She held him at arm's distance and told him, "As long as you lather this heavenly potion all over yourself I give you leave to do whatever you want to my body. I've really missed this." Steph flipped the top of the bottle and inhaled deeply and then handed him the shower gel. She slid around his warm wet body pressing herself against him until she was directly under the hot spray.

Carlos raised the bottle to his nose and sniffed. It smelled familiar… his lips pressed together and he made a slight _hmmm_ of approval and proceeded to do as Stephanie requested. Then he stepped up against her back and let the rainfall showerhead sluice the suds from his body. Steph turned and with her hands and mouth, showed him how much she liked this particular scent on him. Carlos needed no further incentive to make sure he never ran out of the aphrodisiac-like gel. After some intense kissing and sliding around of body parts, they both got serious. It turned out to be the best shower he'd ever had, memory or no memory. For Stephanie, it was the first time she'd done it standing upright. She was discovering not only did Carlos give great bed, he gave great shower, too. She was looking forward to great desk, great couch, great rug…

Trusting her advice, Carlos let Stephanie pick out the clothes for him to wear for his first day in the office. It was a novel thing for him to be standing in a huge, perfectly aligned closet full of clothes he'd never seen, knowing that each garment would fit him like a glove. He'd also never seen so many clothes in black before. There were sections of dress black, work black and casual black. Even the underwear was black.

"I'm not colorblind. Why all the black?" he asked Steph.

"It's your trademark. All RangeMen wear black clothes and drive black vehicles. And you all seem to have attended the same finishing school because all of you wear the same blank expression, stand at parade rest, and have an intimidating manner that could send small children screaming. And that's when you're trying to be nice."

Carlos took in everything she said and asked a few more questions about what to expect for the day. He had a feeling Ranger never asked such questions, but Steph was his best source of information and he trusted her to be discreet regarding his ignorance.

"Now Carlos, promise me you'll call your mother and Julie today and make arrangements to see both of them."

Dreading that task, he tilted his head back and closed his eyes before answering, "Querida." With his arms loosely around her waist, he looked down on her smiling face and asked, "What are you going to do today?"

She ran her hands across his pecs that showed so prominently under his tight black t-shirt. "If you want me to, I can stay in the office?" Carlos shook his head. "Then, I'll continue the DEA investigation into the missing drugs from the PD evidence lockers. I've been working with Zero on that case and we're close to solving it."

"That's my girl. Go get your man, or men as the case may be."

"Well, that's one option," she replied cryptically.

There was a light rap on the front door and Stephanie informed him, "That's probably Ella with breakfast. You like Ella and I _love_ Ella. Ella cooks, cleans and buys me wonderful clothes. She makes your life in this apartment effortless. Be nice to her."

Carlos made a slight moue, not liking to be told to be nice to someone. What was he? Some uncouth, thoughtless beast? The beast part, maybe, he smiled to himself remembering this morning's more pleasurable, though primal activities.

He strode to the door and opened it. A diminutive middle-aged woman with short dark hair and dark eyes stood there with her hands on the compact cart in front of her. Carlos smiled and greeted her, "Good morning, Ella. It's so nice to see you again. Please, come in."

He stepped aside while a surprised Ella wheeled the cart into the apartment. Ella reached out a shaking hand and, then in a rush, she gave Carlos a quick hug and stepped back, embarrassed.

When Ella met his eyes, there were tears in hers. "I'm so happy to have you home again. You've been sorely missed by all of us here at RangeMan." She proceeded to wheel the cart into the kitchen talking as she went. "Louis, that's my husband and your maintenance man, went through the entire building and made sure everything was shipshape for your return. I've kept your apartment just like you left it."

Her eyes dropped down briefly and looked like she was going to say something else, but shook her head. She turned back to her cart. "If you need anything from either of us, we're Number 6 on the intercom and we live on the floor below you. Unless I hear otherwise, I'll have dinner waiting for the two of you whenever you're ready this evening." Ella smiled at Stephanie while she set the table. And then she was gone.

"You're right. I like her." Carlos held out Steph's chair for her and took the one opposite. They filled their plates and both eagerly tackled breakfast. After missing dinner last night they were famished.

"Ella has my preferences down to a T, doesn't she?" Carlos said, scooping the last bit of mushroom egg white omelet into his mouth.

Stephanie was too busy eating her second blueberry muffin to respond.

Ten minutes later, the two of them walked down the stairs together hand in hand and entered the hallway on the fifth floor. After giving Carlos a light kiss, Steph went off to find Zero and he stopped by Tank's office.

"Ten minutes," he advised the impassive man sitting behind the desk and then strode into his own office and shut the door.

On his desk were several manila folders, each prominently marked. Ranger scanned the contents of each one, noting the client, property and current status. The last folder contained situation reports on business issues that needed to be dealt with. Most of the folders contained updated client information on the material Tank had sent him when he was still at Fort Carson. The situation reports addressed new issues so he concentrated his focus on those.

When Tank joined him, they jumped directly into a discussion of the client folders and then the situation reports. Afterwards, Ranger let him know that he appreciated all that Tank had done in his absence and made it clear he would continue to rely on him to handle the day to day operations of the company.

"I appreciate that, Ranger. We still need to discuss how you want to move forward with business. There's been a lot of buzz around town and among our clients. The memory thing."

"I've been thinking about that. Schedule on-site meetings for me with all our clients here in Trenton, but not until next week. The personal touch should ease their concerns. As for the other offices, coordinate teleconferencing meetings with the clients there. I'd like you present for all the meetings so the clients are comfortable with us working as a team."

He didn't want to be traveling out of town right now and definitely didn't want to leave Stephanie. After having her in his bed the last two nights, he wanted that arrangement to continue, which raised several questions.

"Did Stephanie stay here during my absence?"

Tank shook his head no. "She lived in DC most of the time. After solving the Barnes & Nobel case, she got an apartment back here in town. It's not too far from the office." Tank shot his partner a sharp look. "She's only got a month to month lease."

Ranger smiled to himself. Tank's way of saying _'what are you waiting for?'_

After Tank left, Ranger picked up the phone and made some calls. He was pleased with his strategy and confident it would work.

Ranger then got on the computer and researched doctors specializing in head trauma and neurological disorders. He made his decision and called the Mayo Memory Disorder Clinic in Jacksonville, Florida. He set up an appointment for two weeks from now. No point in putting it off.

There was also no point in putting off the rest of the calls he knew he should make. He called the number Steph had given him for Julie. The voice that answered was feminine, but one of a mature woman. He identified himself as Carlos Mañoso and the woman on the other end gasped, "Holy Mother of God!"

This had to be Rachel, his ex-wife. "Rachel, I'm calling to let you and Julie know I'm back in Trenton and I'd like to see my daughter, if that can be arranged in the next few weeks."

There was a pause on the other end and then a tentative, "Carlos? Is that really you? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. How is Julie?"

Another pause and then Rachel spoke again, her voice sounding quite irritated. "Julie has been through the wringer the last year, with you first missing in action and then declared dead, and THEN… coming back from the dead. We attended your funeral, for heaven's sake."

"I'm sorry Julie had to go through that, but I'm back now and I would like to see her. I'll be in Florida in two weeks. Would it be possible to spend some time with her then?"

He endured another ten minutes of questions and set up a time to pick up Julie on a Saturday so he could spend more than just an hour or two with her.

He then called his mother who was in tears the minute she heard his voice. A deep male voice took over and shouted into the phone, "Carlos, mi'jo,* is that you?" There was a pause and then, "You stood us up two days ago. You made your mother cry."

That response caught Carlos off guard and he didn't know how to answer. There was also silence on the other end. That had obviously been his father. The phone was still silent.

"Hello?" Carlos queried, waiting for a reply from someone, anyone. When his father came back on the line, his voice was low and hoarse and had a slight quaver in it, "Mi'jo… come home. I'm not asking, I'm ordering. Come home _now_ and show your poor mother you are safe and well."

_*[mi hijo or 'my son' is frequently verbally shortened to mijo, pronounced miho.]_

The voice wasn't familiar, but even Ranger was moved by the emotion he heard in the man's voice. He didn't have any memories of his family, but he had seen pictures and knew them a little from what Steph had told him. His father had responded much like he imagined he would if a son of his had made Stephanie cry.

"Papa, I'm coming home. Tell Mama I'm okay."

"Está bueno, Carlos."

He could hear a commotion over the phone and his mother came back on the line, "Carlito, you must come home for dinner… tonight. I will make all your favorites. And you must bring Estefania. Promise me, mi'jo. Tonight!"

Carlos agreed to his mother's demands and then couldn't get off the phone as she kept giving him orders. "Sí… Mama. Both Estefania and I will be there for dinner…sí, this evening. Alright… yes, of course... Mama, I have to go… yes, I will."

He sat back in his chair and rubbed both hands over his face. That was worse than going several rounds in the ring with Tank. How was he going to get through an entire evening with these two people who knew him on such a personal level and he didn't know them from a stranger on the street?

He hit 6 on the intercom. "Ella, Stephanie and I will be eating dinner in Newark with my parents tonight. Thank you for your kind offer to cook. You and Louis enjoy tonight off. Please, have dinner out at any restaurant of your choice. My treat… de nada."

One more phone call. "Are you up for a trip to Newark tonight?"

He went silent as he listened to Stephanie chastise his lack of phone manners. He started again, "Hello, this is Carlos. Is that better? Now… my mother insisted I bring you with me to dinner tonight." Some more listening.

"Yes, dinner tonight. I was ordered home by my father. _Ordered!_ Do you know if my parents drink wine?" And even more listening and then they began a back and forth discussion.

"Okay, wine for the women… wait, what do you mean _women?" _and he listened as Stephanie told him to expect his sisters for dinner. "My mother didn't say anything about my sisters… or my brother or their spouses. No, it's going to be just my mother and father…_isn't it?_ _All of them_ will be there? Are you sure?" Ranger's head dropped down. According to Stephanie, his entire extended family would probably be in attendance tonight.

He listened as she continued to give him instructions. "My father likes beer? Port 44? Local microbrewery. Right. Got it. Is that all?" Trying to rectify his abrupt start of the call, he ended with, "And Querida…te amo." They disconnected, with Steph finally happy with his phone manners.

Just to be prepared, Ranger did a little research and called ahead, ordering a case of the wine Stephanie suggested and two cases of his father's favorite local beer to be delivered to his parents' home that afternoon. He also decided he liked the Porsche he'd leased in Chicago. After a brief discussion with Tank regarding company and personal cars, he ordered a new Porsche for himself and extended his lease on the rental for another few weeks.

Feeling pretty good with his morning's work, he joined Tank in the conference room as they prepared to hold a staff meeting. This meeting would also be Skyped to the three other offices in Boston, Atlanta and Miami. Game on!

**TBC**


	41. Chapter 41 Oh, Boy!

**Chapter 41 — Oh, Boy!**

_Happiness is having a large, loving, caring, close-knit family in another city._

_OR_

_'Ohana' means family - no one gets left behind, and no one is ever forgotten. _

_ ~ Lilo & Stitch_

Stephanie's POV

I was sitting in my car in the Trenton PD parking lot. I'd been on the phone with Pax when he put me on hold to take another call. Now I was twiddling my thumbs, watching Carl Costanza try to get a screaming man who was wearing only a diaper out of the back of his patrol car. It reminded me of my bounty hunting days, days I was glad were behind me.

"Steph, you still there?" came Pax's voice over the phone's speaker.

"Yeah, Pax. Now, what's this about a new development in our stolen evidence case? You said our role was about to change?"

"That's right. As you know, while we've been contracted to conduct the investigation into what happened to the drugs _after_ they were stolen from the various PD evidence lockers, the State's Attorney General Office has been conducting its own Internal Affairs investigation on possible law enforcement personnel who had access to the evidence lockers in question."

My hand was rotating around and around, trying to get Pax to get to the bottom line – as if he could see me through the phone. "I'm familiar with all that, Pax. What's changed?"

"The AG's office in New Jersey is now asking the DEA to take over all aspects of the investigation, to eliminate the accusation of impropriety or collusion."

"Impropriety? Sounds like some bad shit hit the fan?"

"It seems one of their IA investigators accused a police detective of stealing the drugs and that detective turned around and accused the IA investigator of having a personal vendetta against him. The AG's office wants an unbiased outside entity to take over the investigation. So, Steph, we are now responsible for interviewing the various parties to ferret out the truth."

"Okay, Zero and I weren't making much headway in finding out where the stolen drugs are going or even if they're being resold," I admitted, embarrassed we'd struck out.

"Well, now our focus will be on the suspect or suspects involved in the actual theft of the drugs from the evidence lockers. And by the way, Steph, the detective accused in the thefts is none other than Joseph Morelli."

"WHAT? No way! Joe'd never do that. Pax, that's ridiculous. Joe wouldn't jeopardize his career, not for drugs."

"Do I need to caution you that you must remain absolutely impartial in this investigation?"

I hesitated before answering. "You know Joe's and my history…what would stop anyone from crying 'foul' whichever way the investigation turns out? If our findings show Joe stole the drugs, he could claim _I had_ a vendetta against him and if our findings clear him, couldn't someone else accuse me of protecting an old boyfriend?"

"That's why John left DC for Trenton early this morning. He'll do the actual interviews, but I want you to sit in on them. Use that uncanny knack you have to detect hidden motives or directions the AG's investigator missed."

With Joe now involved, I wanted off this case. I couldn't see it turning out well, but a job's a job. And I took this one seriously. "Okay, Pax. If you think leaving me on this case is a good idea, I'll stay. I'll wait for John to get here and go over my notes with him before the interviews. This case just became a real hot potato, didn't it?"

"I have all the faith in the world in you, Stephanie. Go get 'em!"

Oh, boy!

. . .

John and I were prepared for our first interview that same afternoon. We were starting with Elena Benneau, the Internal Affairs investigator from the Attorney General's Office, the one who'd accused Joe of stealing evidence.

We were already seated in the 'interview' room at the Trenton Police Department when a very attractive blonde walked in. John shot out of his chair and extended his hand to the woman, an ear to ear grin splitting his face.

"I'm Agent John Carter from the Drug Enforcement Administration. And you must be Elena Benneau," he said, smiling until my face hurt just watching my gonads-for-brains team member fawn over this inflated Barbie doll. She was wearing a skin-tight red sweater and an equally tight black skirt. She was a tall woman with long lean legs and had on a pair of 5-inch heels. She stood eye to eye with John and he was no small man.

Elena wrapped both her hands around John's and smiled back at him. "Yes, I'm Elena," she crooned. "I wanted to be sooo mad at you for taking over my investigation, but now…well, let's just say I am sooo looking forward to working _under_ a big handsome take charge man like yourself."

Oh, boy! What a load of crap. Watching this nauseating interchange made me want to cram my index finger down my throat.

John pulled out a chair for our top-heavy interviewee and I half-rose from mine to offer my hand to the simpering woman. Elena glanced at me and stretched her lips across her teeth, but I wouldn't have called it a smile. The woman didn't offer me her hand, but instead turned back to John.

"Now, you're going to be gentle with me, aren't you, Johnny? Is this going to be a 'good cop, bad cop' interrogation? I can tell you're the good cop," she cooed at John and placed her hand over his, totally ignoring me. I only wished I'd have the opportunity to do the bad cop routine with her.

"We're DEA agents, not cops. And we're just going to ask you a few questions about your investigation in the locker thefts. No interrogation," John replied, extracting his hand from under hers. "Both myself and my team member, Stephanie Plum," he nodded toward me, "have read your report and your conclusions. If you could tell us about the initial process you used to narrow down your suspect field, that would be a good start."

He scooted his chair a little away from her. I was glad to see him distance himself even a little from this walking, talking advertisement for insecticide spray. The kind that kills Black Widows and other creepy crawlies.

John continued asking Elena questions about her work, while I leaned back and studied the woman. There was something _off_ about her. I knew I didn't like her, but I put that aside and just listened to her answers. She batted her eyelashes at John and kept crossing and recrossing her legs, her skirt riding higher and higher on her thighs. I almost snorted when she tossed her head, a la Farrah Fawcett, and her long bleached out tresses hit John in the face.

Do guys really fall for stuff like that? I guess they do when the 'lady' in question sports a 38 DD bra and swings her hips so hard she can dust an entire room with one pass down the middle.

Finally, John got to the interesting part of our questions and I leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Now, why would Detective Morelli accuse you of having a personal vendetta against him?"

Her brown eyes got big as if this was the first time she'd heard the accusation. She kept her voice pitched low and sexy, but there was a hint of sarcasm in it. "I'm sure I have no idea what goes on in Detective Morelli's mind. But by blaming me, it shifted the focus away from him onto me and got people's attention, didn't it?"

John let that answer pass. I would have hammered her until she came clean. This wouldn't be the only time we talked with Elena Benneau.

As John finished the interview, I decided the first thing I'd do – besides take a scalding hot shower – is recheck all of Elena's assertions regarding the people that had access to the evidence lockers where the PDs had reported drugs missing. I also decided to do my own background check on Elena Benneau. John escorted Elena out to her car and I gathered up the files and my purse and headed out myself.

I stopped by my apartment to pick up some clean clothes and get Rex from my neighbor who'd been hamster sitting for me. Carlos had asked me to stay with him at his apartment for a few more days. I was happy to oblige. It would be hard to sleep now without him next to me.

This evening, we were going to Newark to have our first dinner with the Mañosos.

And tomorrow, we interviewed Joe. _Oh, boy!_

…

Carlos had been quiet the entire way to Newark and I let him have his space. Since the Porsche had its own navigational system, I didn't need to give him directions. I knew the city well, though, since I'd worked here for several years when I was in my twenties. It hadn't changed that much, just got older and more rundown. As we got closer to his parents' house, I had a sense of déjà vu. Ranger had brought me to this neighborhood a couple of years ago when we were looking for clues about Scrog. Newark had lots of memories for me.

Carlos had no such no memories, not even déjà vu, and he grew up here. While there were times I wished I could forget a lot of stuff, to lose all your memories of everything, good and bad, was unimaginable to me.

I reached my hand over the console and he met me halfway. We'd been doing that a lot—meeting each other halfway. It felt… like a partnership, a nicely balanced relationship. I didn't feel like the screw-up with Carlos.

Sometimes, with Ranger, I'd felt like I was always waiting… to fall in some garbage, attract another stalker or run from another exploding car… waiting for Ranger to clean me up, rescue me, or comfort me.

But now, I was there to stand by his side, and offer him comfort. I might even need to rescue him tonight, I thought as a smile creased my face. I couldn't imagine his family, even the kids, backing off if he shot them one his badass 'looks.' This was _family!_ And the Mañosos weren't a pansy-assed family.

We pulled up in the driveway of a modest ranch style house. There were several cars parked ahead of us and along the street. Kids were playing in the grassy front yard. Carlos turned off the ignition and I rolled down my window.

He stared at the house. I imagine he was trying to dredge up a memory, a feeling of familiarity, anything from his time living here. I could see it wasn't working.

I turned and watched the kids playing a form of tag where one child wore a blindfold and the other kids got as close to the tagger as they could without getting tagged. As I listened to their childish shrieks and laughter, what they were yelling as part of the game finally registered on my consciousness. The blindfolded child was yelling 'Marco' and waiting to hear a response, while the kid running and dodging past him yelled 'Pardo' instead of 'Polo.' I couldn't help it. I burst out laughing.

Lost in his own thoughts, Carlos turned to look at me with unmasked surprise. I gulped down my laughter and said, "What? Didn't you play tag when you were a k…?" I stammered to a halt, realizing how thoughtless my question was.

"I'm sorry. Please forget what I just said, Carlos." He must be really dreading this dinner to be that unaware of his surroundings. I doubt he heard what the kids were yelling. I reached for his hand and then tilted my head toward the house. "Are you ready to brave the lion's den?"

"If I promise you Boston Creams every morning for the next month, I don't suppose you'd let us leave right now?" He kissed my palm and lifted his eyebrows in playful question.

I shook my head and squeezed his hand, "Carlos, this is your family. While you may not remember them, they remember everything about you. Your first cry as a baby, the first steps you took, all the fights you had with your brother and sisters. Your parents lived through the trauma of sending their innocent boy off to the Army and got back a trained soldier, so closed off that they barely recognized him. And now, _you_ can't recognize them. I know they'll all be strangers to you tonight, but try to remember when it gets too overwhelming, _they love you_. They've always loved you."

He grasped my hand tightly and as quickly released it, and then resolutely got out of the car and walked swiftly to my side. Opening the door, he held out his hand and helped me from the car. Even with all that must be racing through his mind, he was ever the gentleman.

As we started up the walk, one of the children, a small dark-skinned boy about seven years old, ran across the yard and stopped in front of us. He was slender and his dark hair just skimmed his shoulders. I remembered him being the son of one of Carlos' sisters. I bet Carlos looked very similar to him when he was a boy. He sported an impish grin and you could see he was missing his two front teeth. Without a word, the little boy bent over sideways and held out his right arm and lifted his right leg to Carlos, while he balanced on his left leg. Carlos shot me a quick, puzzled glance and I shrugged my shoulders giving him an 'I dunno' look.

After a few more seconds holding his precarious position, the boy straightened and gave Carlos a disappointed scowl. Running back to his playmates, he yelled, "It's not him. That's not Tío Carlos. He didn't even know how to play airplane."

Carlos stared after the boy, a pained look on his face. Just then, the front door burst open and the first person out was Carlos' mother, Sonia. She already had tears in her eyes, but a huge smile on her face. She ran down the steps and with arms outstretched, she wrapped Carlos up and buried her face in his chest, well, his ribs, Sonia wasn't very tall. Okay, she was really short.

Carlos stood still, his arms lifted up level with his shoulders, eyes wide looking down at the sobbing middle-aged woman clinging to him. When he looked over at me, I mimed putting my arms around someone and nodded to him. Slowly, he lowered his arms and gently held his mother as she cried tears of joy. The rest of the family was filing out of the house onto the front porch, watching the touching scene unfold. Ricardo, I saw, was holding back his daughters to give his wife time alone with her son. I walked up the steps and was warmly greeted by the milling mass of Mañosos.

I turned back to look at mother and son as Sonia reached her hand up and tentatively touched Carlos' cheek and then his brow as if unable to believe this was really her son, alive and well. Running her hands from his shoulders down his arms and then clasping his hands in hers, she led him toward the house. Neither had spoken yet.

I reminded everyone that Carlos would need for them to reintroduce themselves. As he and Sonia came onto the porch, his father stepped forward, his right arm outstretched. "Welcome home, mi'jo. I'm your father. You can call me Ricardo if Papa seems too… soon for you." His father was still a good-looking man, with only a little grey showing at his temples. If Carlos aged half as well, I'd consider myself a lucky woman.

"Papa will be fine," Carlos said, and took his father's hand. Needing more, Ricardo pulled Carlos into a manly half-hug, with Ricardo holding the embrace for a full couple of seconds before he allowed Carlos to pull away. And then the four sisters surged forward, not standing on protocol.

Celia was first and she wasn't going to settle for a handshake. She threw her arms around Carlos' neck and hugged him tightly. "I can't believe I'm really holding you. We buried you, for heaven's sake. By the way, I'm your older sister, Celia." She leaned up and whispered in his ear, "I'm your favorite sister." Carlos had his blank expression on and didn't react. In fact, his face showed no emotion for the next several introductions.

Maria was next. She also didn't stand on ceremony, but wrapped her arms around his middle. She took after her mother, short and determined and a little plump. "Welcome home, mi hermano. I've missed you so much." She crooked her finger at him and Carlos leaned over. Cupping her hand to his ear, she whispered, "You always liked me best."

She backed away when Teresa tapped her on the shoulder. His third sister was tall and thin, with an obvious baby bump. She didn't say anything, but leaned into him, her arms folded against his chest, her head resting on his shoulder. She made no noise, but you could see her body start to shudder as she silently cried.

Carlos had kept his arms to his side until now. With this sobbing young woman leaning against him, he lifted one arm and rubbed her back. His face had been impassive and even now, he kept a tight control over his facial expressions. I couldn't tell what was going through his mind.

Teresa took a deep breath to still her sobs, though her voice was a little shaky. "I'm Teresa. I'm pregnant and I cry at the drop of a hat. I'm sorry if I got you all wet. I guess I owed you one for that time you doused me with the hose when I was all dressed up for Confirmation." She kissed his cheek and then whispered, "I know you don't remember, but I'm the sister you like best." She pulled herself away from Carlos with an effort and ran to an extremely tall skinny man standing at the end of the porch. He held her close while she cried some more.

His fourth sister, the baby of the family, was pushed forward by Celia. I'd met Coco, as she liked to be called, when I visited last month. She was the only one in the family with curly hair and fair skin. Coco was shy at first, but was the funny one once she warmed up to you. Now, she looked scared to death.

"You must be Socorro," Carlos volunteered. Coco looked as shocked as the rest of the family. Seeing everyone's look of surprise, Carlos explained, "I studied my family 'catechism'." That got a chuckle from a man who looked like a younger version of Ricardo. He was the same height as Carlos, but not nearly as muscular and not quite as handsome.

The man stepped forward and placed his hands on Coco's shoulders. He looked over her head at Carlos. "Socorro is our youngest sister's given name, but if you don't want a fist to your stomach, call her Coco." With that, he skipped back a step as if expecting an elbow to his ribs, but Coco was still transfixed on Carlos. He continued, "I'm Antonio, your brother. And I'm older, smarter and can still take you, little brother, so don't get any ideas." He grinned, extending his hand to Carlos.

Carlos studied his brother before shaking his hand over his sister's head. Then, Carlos looked down at his youngest sibling and smiled for the first time since arriving at his parents' house. "Coco it is, then. Did I tease you very much when we were younger?"

She smiled back, nodded and crept forward, her arms gingerly encircling his waist, as if she might hurt him or worse, be rebuffed. Responding to her shyness, Carlos put his arms around his little sister, giving her a warm hug. Lifting her head, she said, "You can tease me, Carlos. It'll feel like old times."

"I wouldn't want to get punched in the stomach," he responded, still with a grin on his face.

Coco stood on her tiptoes and whispered, "I promise not to hit you; you've always been my favorite brother." She stepped away, leaving Carlos standing by himself.

There was a moment of awkwardness, and then the rest of the family pressed in. Each sibling introduced his or her spouse and their children. There were several aunts and uncles and lots of cousins.

Carlos dutifully stood there and shook hands and allowed himself to be hugged and cried over. Judging from his reaction, or lack thereof, it seemed as if he was meeting my family for the first time, not his. He was polite, reserved, and endured the emotional barrage with stoic resignation. In response, his family purposely avoided any direct discussion of Carlos' amnesia, as if not talking about it would make it go away.

And then, by some unspoken command, everyone moved toward the front door, sweeping Carlos and myself with them. We all crowded into the living room and Carlos was quietly shoved to the front of the group. All talking had ceased, even the children were quiet. He found himself standing in front of an elderly, white-haired gentlewoman. She wore black from head to toe, her still-thick hair swept up in an elegant bun. She was seated with her thin arms resting on the wooden arms of a straight-backed chair that was located a few feet away from the television. A cane leaned against the back of her chair. Her lined face was as impassive as Carlos'.

I held my breath and realized most everyone around me was doing the same thing. We waited for what seemed like an eternity, but was actually only five seconds or so. While I knew his grandmother could understand some English, she chose to speak Spanish at home to keep alive the old traditions. She was very much a product of her era and old school Cuban origins. Unfortunately for me, this meant I couldn't understand most of Carlos' conversation with her.

Finally, she spoke, her voice strong and sure belying the appearance of frailty that her thin body gave. "Ha regresado de entre los muertos, mi nieto querido." [_You have returned from the dead, my beloved grandson_.]

Carlos took a step forward and dropped to one knee in front of her so they were eye to eye. "Abuela Rosa, estoy vivo y bien. Simplemente he venido inicio." [_Grandmother Rosa, I am alive and well. I have simply come home_.]

"Donde pertinences." [_Where you belong_.]

Carlos did not respond.

She reached out her arm to touch his face. Carlos held her shaking hand to his cheek and then kissed the back of her hand. Holding her small frail one in his two strong hands, he said, "Siento si le he causado dolor, más venerada." [_I am sorry if I have caused you grief, most revered one_.]

She looked at the serious man kneeling before her and nodded. "Han gravado mí profundamente, Carlos. Te pone en el peligro constante y te aleja de tu familia." [_You have taxed me sorely, Carlos. You put yourself in constant danger and stay away from your family._]

Again, Carlos did not respond.

"Soy una anciana, y quiero que mi familia alrededor de mí." [_I am an old woman and I want my family around me._]

"No es tan vieja, Abuela." [_You are not so old, Grandmother_.]

"Ah, dices mentiras dulces." [_Ah, you tell sweet lies.] _She leaned forward and pitched her voice much lower, "Todavía, eres my favorito, de todos mis niños." [_Still, you are my favorite, of all my children._]

Carlos' eyes widened slightly at her declaration, but he gave no other response.

And then she brought up the question everyone wanted to ask, but was politely avoiding. "¿Realmente no recuerda nada de tu pasado? ¿No tu familia, no tu niñez o Ejercito días? ¿Ni tu novia?" [_You truly do not remember anything of your past? Not your family, not your childhood or Army days? Not even your sweetheart?]_

Carlos shook his head at whatever she'd asked him. I was surprised when he looked my way, sadness apparent in his face. "Es verdad. No tengo ninguna memoria de mi pasado o de los queridos para mí." [_It is true. I have no memory of my past or of those dear to me_.]

"Mi pobre chico. Estás en casa ahora. Todo está perdonado. Ahora… vaya… coma. Te vas demasiado delgado." [_My poor boy._ _You are home now._ _All is forgiven. Now… go… eat. You look too thin.]_

She waved Carlos away, but not before she uttered one last comment, which resulted in everyone giggling and casting amused glances at me. Even Carlos couldn't suppress a grin as she was speaking. "Y engorde a tú amante hermosa. Quiero a más nietos." [_And fatten up your beautiful lover. I want more grandchildren._]

I'd have to ask Carlos what she said. I had a feeling it had something to do with me.

The old woman waved her hand and the once quiet room filled with noise again. Sonia pulled Carlos to his feet and laughing, she pushed him into the next room. There, overflowing with heavenly smelling food, was the massive dining room table. You could see through the open patio doors that out on the back porch were additional smaller tables for the children. They would be chaperoned by several aunts and Grandmother Rosa.

Ricardo stood at the head of the table and motioned Carlos to his side. Carlos looked my way, but his mother was guiding me to the other end of the table. Pulling a chair from the side of the table next to his, Ricardo looked from his son to the second chair and sat down. Carlos sat next to him, surprised; I'm sure he thought that this proud man had never shared the head of the table with anyone before and he'd be right. Sonia added a chair next to hers and motioned me to sit. The rest of the family took their places along the sides of the table, some of the adults herding the children out to the porch and into their seats.

Ricardo raised his hands, palms out, in front of his chest and the room quieted. "By God's miracle, we welcome our Carlos home again, where he belongs. We also welcome his beautiful novia, Estefania, to our table once again. She has been the one ray of hope this long year. A year we never wish to repeat." His father shot a sharp glance at Carlos. "Let us give thanks." Heads bowed and there was a murmur of prayers being said. Sonia's hand crept into mine and with a light squeeze, let me know she agreed with her husband's words.

At Ricardo's kind words, I couldn't help the heat rushing to my cheeks and chanced a glance at Carlos. He was staring intently at me and when our eyes met, a hint of a smile lightened his normally blank face. I loved my family, but Carlos' was so open and welcoming, it was hard not to compare the two.

Platters and bowls filled with delicious Cuban dishes were passed around the table and everyone loaded up their plates. As I sat next to Sonia, shoveling spoonful after spoonful of the spicy food into my appreciative mouth, I noticed she would hold her breath and stare at Carlos each time he tried a different dish. I could practically read her mind. She was hoping one her recipes, all Carlos' favorites, would cause him to remember even just a moment from his past. I'd read that smells and tastes were powerful catalysts that could trigger long-buried memories. I said a silent prayer, 'Let it be so.'

The rest of the meal passed pleasantly, with lots of loud talk and laughter as the family members joked and kidded one another. Carlos was quiet throughout dinner, responding in monosyllables when asked a question. The dinner with the Mañosos was so much different than my family dinners. I was actually enjoying myself, not waiting for some disaster or fight to break out.

For dessert, I noticed Carlos ate a large helping of the custard his mother said was his favorite. She called it flan. It was delicious and creamy with a sweet caramel sauce over the top. I couldn't help thinking, as I licked my plate clean, if that didn't jog his memory, nothing would. I wondered if Ella knew how to make flan?

With dinner over, the men retreated to the den to smoke cigars while the women cleared the table and did the dishes. This was definitely a traditional household. As his father led Carlos out of the dining room, he caught my eye. I won't say he looked worried, but it was obvious he didn't want to leave me. It gave me a warm fuzzy feeling and made being relegated to the kitchen bearable, sort of.

The men returned to the living room as the women were finishing up in the kitchen. Grandma Rosa had retired for the night and the children were more than ready for bed. As soon as Carlos entered the room, he sought me out and pulled me to his side. The goodbyes from all the relatives were brief, as they were eager to put their children to bed.

I thought we'd spend a little time just with his parents, but Carlos made it obvious he'd reached his limit. We stood by the front door and had a moment of awkwardness. Carlos held out his hand at the same time his father opened his arms. I figured Carlos had a hard enough time showing his father physical affection in the best of circumstances, but this was a virtual stranger still to Carlos. I could feel him steel himself for the embrace. He kept his arms to his side while his father hugged him. Sonia fared a little better. Carlos was able to pat her back a few times as she hugged him, with unshed tears in her eyes. I gave both his parents a warm hug and promised we wouldn't be strangers.

The ride home was as quiet as the trip in had been. Carlos needed to decompress. We were about halfway to Trenton and I couldn't stand the silence any longer.

"Well, that wasn't so bad, was it?" I said.

Carlos turned a hard stare on me. He turned his attention back to the road and answered, "I'd rather be tortured by the entire Venezuelan Army than go through another night like that. I don't know if I can do that again, Stephanie."

"I thought you did quite well," I said. Carlos looked almost angry. "Did something happen? Did someone say something that upset you?" Wrong thing to say!

His voice was harsh, "I'm not upset. I just can't keep pretending to have feelings for people I don't know."

A momentary flash of panic surged through me. "Are you pretending with me?"

He shut his eyes briefly. When he spoke his voice was soft and low, "You know better than that."

I shouldn't need reassurance, but it was nice to get it. "It'll get better. Carlos, they're your family. They expect to see you on a regular basis."

"From what I understand, I didn't see them very often before, why start now?"

I didn't have an answer for him, at least not one he'd accept. I was glad he _wanted _a relationship with Julie, otherwise, our trip to Florida could be a real bummer.

I knew one thing I could do, though, that might make up for Carlos' trying evening. I was glad I'd swung by my apartment earlier in the day and picked up a few things from my lingerie drawer.

. . .

The sensations were absolutely wonderful. The pressure was intense, but bearable. I was filled to the maximum and it felt so good. My eyes were closed and I found myself gently rocking back and forth, involuntary sounds of pleasure emanating from deep within my throat. It went on and on and I never wanted it to end…

"Querida."

I opened my eyes and gazed down into the half-lidded eyes of the beautiful man I was straddling. Bedroom eyes, I think they're called. His were nearly black and filled with desire, desire for me. I quickened my pace ever so slightly, pushing him deeper into me, which elicited a throaty moan from my lover.

He spoke again, bringing me out of my dreamlike state. "You're driving me crazy. I am _so_ close. I can't hang on much longer, Querida."

I shut my eyes again when I heard that word. A twinge of pain pulled at my heart. The word was said with such love and depth of emotion. I felt guilty for wanting more, but God help me, I did.

I wanted… I longed to hear that one short word; that word only he used and when he uttered it, it could mean so much. I missed him, that part of him. Hearing that word would mean he was back, whole. All of him home in my arms again.

I chastised myself. _He was_ home. _He was_ here, in my arms. I loved him and even better, he loved me and showed me with each word and action. But there was still a part of him that was missing and my heart ached for that part of him.

God, I was a selfish bitch! How could I ask for more than I already had? We'd found each other again and he was everything I could hope for. So, why was I hanging on to this little piece of our past? Maybe because it was something only the two of us shared, it was ours from the beginning. For so many years, it was the one way he'd let me in, let me know I was special to him.

Get over yourself, Steph. The man you love is here, in fact, he's right under you. Ride him like Zorro and be happy, be ecstatic.

Placing my hands on his chiseled chest, I lifted my hips up a few inches and lowered them, causing a gasp to escape from my own lips and a slow hiss to come from Carlos'. That was enough for me and I continued until I was truly riding him, desperate for release. I felt his strong hands on my hips, whether to guide me or simply to hang on, I didn't know—my eyes were closed. I got lost in the sensations until finally, I was overcome with my own orgasm. His followed immediately after.

Strong arms pulled me down against a rock hard chest and held me so tightly I could barely breathe. At my feeble, "Carlos…" his arms loosened a tiny bit and I laid my head on his shoulder. I could feel the scar tissue against my cheek and remembered that horrible sight of him falling over the railing and hearing him call out to me, "_Babe_." It wasn't just my overactive imagination that day, was it? If he could remember it then, why not now?

"That was phenomenal, Querida." Carlos kissed my cheek and continued to rub my back as I lay on top of him. We stayed like that for quite some time before he spoke again. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you seem a million miles away. What's going on?"

I didn't want to tell him, and have him call me that just because I asked for it. It wouldn't be the same. I needed to mourn my loss and get on with it.

"Nothing. I just got caught up in the moment."

He arched his neck back into the pillow and looked closely at my face just inches away from his. "You can tell me anything. You know that, don't you?"

Gazing into his eyes, now soft and tender, I nodded. My heart did a flip-flop and I knew how lucky I was to have found him again and still have the connection we did.

From now on out, no wanting any more than I had in my arms right now. This was more than most women would have in ten lifetimes. I pulled myself up and kissed his waiting mouth and felt him swell within me.

_Oh, boy!_

**TBC**


	42. Chapter 42 I Never Lost You

**Chapter 42 — I Never Lost You**

_I never lost you, I never really lost you, _

_I kept on believing what I wanted to believe,_

_How could I lose you, you were never mine._

Stephanie's POV

"I'm hot! Are you hot? I'm burning up in here. Where's the frickin' thermostat?"

I paced the length of the room, my eyes darting around looking for the thermostat, and finding none. I pulled at the collar of my sweater. "Damn, it's too hot to concentrate. I think I'll go outside and cool off."

"Sit down, Plum. He'll be here in a minute. Don't worry. I'll ask him our questions, you'll do your 'observation' thing and it'll be over before you know it. I'd tell you to 'man up,' but you don't have the right equipment for it." John chuckled to himself, like he'd just told a really funny joke. We'd learned to tolerate each other, but just barely.

I rolled my eyes, not that John saw it or cared. I couldn't resist poking the bear. "Yeah, I saw the way you 'manned' up when that blonde bimbo, Benneau, slithered into the room yesterday. If that's the result of having the _right_ equipment, no thanks."

I stopped pacing and looked across the table at him. "What was it with you and her yesterday? When she first came in you were all over her, but when she got close you suddenly backed off."

John looked uncomfortable. "I don't know. She's some looker, but… when she touched me a chill went up my spine and I felt sick to my stomach. There's something not quite right about her."

I'd felt that, too, but couldn't put it into words. Seemed like John couldn't either.

The door opened and Joe entered. I hadn't seen him since our nasty encounter at Pino's. It was obvious he hadn't been taking care of himself. His clothes were wrinkled, he hadn't shaved in days and his eyes were bloodshot. When he saw me, it was as if his body went to war with his mind. His feet were rooted to the floor, but his upper body was trying to run screaming from the room. The look on his face went from surprised to pissed to 'why me?' all in a matter of seconds and his skin color went whiter than mine, if that's possible. Joe needed to go back and take remedial blank face training.

John remained seated and motioned Joe to take the chair across from him. I sidled over to a chair at the far end of the table. Joe watched me sit down and then, with an air of indifference, came into the room and plunked his still very fine ass in the chair _next to the one_ John had indicated. He looked over at John, a hint of a smirk showing. Still the rebellious asshole.

John started, "I'm Agent Carter from the Drug Enforcement Administration and this…" he nodded down the table at me, "is Agent…"

Joe spoke up, "I'm familiar with '_Agent_' Plum. _Very_ familiar." He didn't look at me. He just sat there leaning back in his chair and stared at John, a 'pleased with himself' grin splitting his stubble-ridden face.

I wanted to slap that grin off until I realized he was trying to goad me into some action unbefitting an agent. I took a couple deep breaths and willed myself to stay calm, at least outwardly. Joe knew all my buttons; I just had to figure out a way to disconnect them when he pushed.

"Detective Morelli, you've been accused of stealing confiscated drugs from seven different police department evidence lockers. This is a serious charge. I understand you have filed a countersuit against the original investigator in this case. Because of this, the case has now been turned over to the DEA's investigation unit." John was sitting squarely in his chair, his forearms flat on the table. An open file was laid out on the table in front of him. A portrait of a man very much in charge, or so he thought.

Joe's face turned stormy and he sat up straight. "The charges are bullshit. I'm being set up. That b…" He pursed his lips and looked down for a moment. Saying the title with a sarcastic tone, Joe asserted, "_Investigator_ Benneau has it in for me. I don't know what proof she has, but I didn't do it. What's my motive?" His voice sounded tired but angry.

"What's Benneau's motive to target you?" John countered.

Joe was decidedly uncomfortable, moving around in his chair and looking anywhere but at me.

"Morelli?" John paused until Joe looked at him. "Tell me, why would an Internal Affairs investigator have it in for you?"

Joe wasn't talking. He stopped looking at John and gave his head a slight shake as if saying, 'what's the use.' I was supposed to just observe, not participate, but I knew I could get Joe to open up. I knew his buttons as well as he knew mine.

"Just how well _do you know_ Elena Benneau, Joe?" I asked, though I thought I already knew the answer.

Joe blew out a big breath. He still wouldn't look at me. "I met her on the job about six, seven months ago. We… 'dated'… a couple of times and when I stopped seeing her, she got angry. Very angry."

Joe paused after he said the word 'dated', the implication being he slept with her. I actually smiled. The realization I wasn't jealous, even a little, was a relief to me. I didn't let go easily.

John leaned his right shoulder back and slid his arm onto the arm of his chair. "You're saying Benneau framed you just because you stopped _dating_ her?" And then John went where he shouldn't have. "No woman is _that hard up_."

I watched as a tired Joe pulled himself up and became the swaggering braggart of his brawling days. "Hey, what can I say? I'm _that_ good… right, Cupcake?" Joe said smugly, shooting me a leering look.

Before I could respond and, boy was my right fist itching to, John immediately thrust himself half out of his chair toward Joe, and yelled, his voice hard and loud. "That'll be _enough_, Morelli. You're in a lot of trouble. I don't think making jokes about it and alienating those investigating you is a very smart move, do you?"

Joe didn't even flinch at John's attempt at intimidation. Instead, he snorted, "I'm already on administrative leave _without_ pay. My reputation's in the crapper. What more are they going to do to me?" He blew out a loud breath and shook his head from side to side.

"This whole thing's a crock. I'm outta here." Joe stood up abruptly, shoving his chair back with so much force he knocked it over.

John shot out of his chair too and yelled, "SIT DOWN! We're not done here."

Both men stood staring at each other across the table, Joe looking angry and frustrated, John just looking angry. I was glad that for once Joe's anger wasn't directed at me, though I wanted to slap him silly for his Cupcake comment. It was nice that John stood up for me, but I was perfectly capable of handling an obnoxious Joe on my own.

Joe had his arms down by his side and his fists were clenching and unclenching. I knew this whole thing had taken its toll on him, and he and his temper were hanging on by a thread. This wasn't the first time Joe had been accused of doing something illegal. I should know, that's how we reconnected all those years ago. Me tracking him down when I was a bounty hunter and he was accused of murder. I'd been able to prove his innocence then, could I do it again? Even with all the bad blood between us, I didn't think Joe was guilty of stealing drugs.

Joe and John looked like they were ready to come to blows. I decided it was time for me to step in.

"Joe, sit down. If you're innocent, we're your best shot for clearing your name. C'mon on, tell us what you know about the case." I held my hand out toward his overturned chair. "Sit down, please."

He looked over at me and then shook his head, as if in disbelief. "_IF?_ _If I'm innocent?_ Come on, Steph. You, of all people, know I'd never do anything like that."

"Then talk to us," I asked, pointing to his chair again.

Joe still looked disgusted, but not as angry. Reaching over, he grabbed the back of the chair and slammed it on its legs. After he finally sat back down, I passed him a piece of paper.

"We're rechecking all the evidence regarding this case. This is a list of the police departments in New Jersey that reported the drug thefts and the dates they say the thefts occurred. They're located all over the state. Were you at those departments on those dates?"

Joe shot me a look that would have intimidated many a man, but I just stared him back. "Well?"

He rolled his eyes and huffed several times. With obvious reluctance, he finally looked down at the list. He spent some time looking it over and then took out a small notebook from his back pants pocket. A few more minutes was spent comparing his notes with the list and Joe looked back at me. He shook his head at first and then nodded.

"Yeah. I was at each of these PDs on the dates in question. But I was there for gang task force meetings. I didn't go anywhere near the evidence lockers."

John glanced over at me and I knew it didn't look good for Joe. "Were all the other gang task force members at each of those meetings, too?" I asked. Of course, I'd check that out first chance I got. If even one other task force member had been in attendance at all the same meetings, that would go a long way to easing suspicion against Joe.

"Hell, I don't know. Someone else was keeping an attendance roster of the meetings."

"We'll check it out. Is there anything you want to tell us, anything that would help us resolve this case?" I asked.

It took awhile for Joe to open up, but he finally got on board and talked to us. John asked the questions he and I'd prepared earlier, and the three of us batted around some ideas. Even Joe brought up a few possibilities of his own for us to check out. We were all getting along so good I felt like I could give him some grief about calling me Cupcake earlier. I punched him in the arm, hard, and told him not to do it again. He gave me a strange look, but nodded.

We finally finished around noon and let Joe leave. John and I spent the next twenty minutes or so discussing who would do what regarding the case and then he left to head back to DC.

Carlos was going to pick me up and take me to lunch so I called him and let him know I was finished with my meeting. I packed up my files and started to leave the conference room when Joe walked back in. I looked up and our eyes met. I saw something I hadn't seen in a long time. I saw the old Joe, the nice guy who used to care about me, and about his job.

Joe shut the door, walked over to a chair and sat down tiredly. I sat back down across from him and waited. He dropped his head into his hands and rubbed his face and then ran his fingers through his too long, unkempt hair.

When he looked up at me, he looked uncomfortable and even a little sheepish. My first thought was that he was going to confess to the crime for which he'd been accused, and my heart sank. I know he'd been a colossal jerk in the past, but I'd always thought he was a good cop and, deep down, a decent person.

"Steph… I… _whew_… I… I'm not sure how to say this, so… I'm just going to say it." Joe wasn't a fidgety sort of person, but he was shifting around in his chair and shooting glances my way before focusing on the 'spider' speaker phone laying on the table in front of him.

And then he uttered two words I never thought I'd hear come from Joseph Morelli's lips.

"I'm sorry."

Needless to say, I was stunned. I was also confused. That apology could cover a lot of territory between Joe and I.

"You're going to have to be a little more specific, Joe. Are you sorry for that dumb ass comment you made earlier today, or is this apology for some other dumb ass thing you did?"

That got a tiny chuckle and a slight smile out of him. "I deserve that. No, this 'sorry' is for how I treated you at Pino's months ago. I was jerk."

I raised my eyebrow, or at least tried to arch it.

Joe continued to grin. "Okay, I was an asshole and a jerk."

I raised my other eyebrow.

"And a bastard."

"You're getting closer," I told him.

"Steph, I really am sorry. When I finally got it through my thick head that you weren't coming back to me, I took it pretty hard. No one's ever dumped me before." Joe rubbed his five o'clock shadow. I could hear the stubble rasp across his palm. "I'm nearly forty and not married, no kids and now, no job. It's not exactly where I thought I'd be at this stage of my life."

"You were pretty horrible to me, Joe. And to my boss. _In public_."

Joe looked remorseful, and embarrassed. "I have no excuse. After we broke up, I started drinking. A lot. And I'm not talking beer. The more I drank, the sorrier I felt for myself. And then I started getting into fights. Even my old friends didn't want to be around me anymore. I was angry… at you… at me…. at the world. This past year hasn't been a good one for me. And now this… this baseless accusation…" He spread his hands, palms up, and shrugged.

He looked me straight in the eye and apologized again, "Steph, I'm sorry for everything. There's a part of me that didn't want you anywhere near this case, because I didn't want you to see how bad things had got for me. But I know if anyone can prove my innocence, it's you. You've always had this uncanny ability to zero in on the smallest clue and figure out what's true and what's bullshit."

My eyes widened as I heard Joe praise me. Where was this approval when we were together? "That's the first time you've ever said anything like that to me, Joe. It would have been nice to hear it earlier."

"Yeah. Maybe if I'd been a little more supportive of your job, like Ranger was…" The pained look on Joe's face when he said that told me how hard it had been for him to admit it. Then he shook it off.

"You look good, Cup… Steph. I heard you found Ranger alive and well. I wish you the best, both of you. Burg gossip is that he lost his memory. How's he dealing with that? How are you dealing with it?"

"Things are good with us." I wasn't going into detail about Carlos' and my relationship with anyone, and certainly not with Joe.

Joe stared at me until I began to feel uncomfortable. Finally, he looked away and stood up. I stood up too, and walked over to open the door. I held out my hand to shake his at the same time Joe spread his arms to give me a hug. I kept my hand out. Joe sighed and shook my hand.

"Thanks, Steph. I'm glad you're on my case. I know you won't be able to tell me what you find until it all comes out officially, but I trust you to stick with it until you sort out the truth."

He gave me another look I'd almost describe as wistful. He reached out and stroked my cheek with the back of his index finger. "Maybe we can laugh about all this over a pizza and a couple of beers someday?"

I couldn't help but smile and responded, "Maybe. Someday."

Joe walked me out to the parking lot just as Carlos was getting out of his Porsche. I automatically tensed up at the thought of Joe and Ranger orbiting around each other within my personal space bubble.

Carlos strode up to us and leaned in to kiss me before turning to Joe, smoothly inserting himself between Joe and me.

"Morelli," Carlos said by way of acknowledgement. Joe looked surprised that Carlos called him by name. Carlos knew I was interviewing Joe today, so I guess he put two and two together from my description of Joe. "Heard about your suspension. Tough break."

Joe bristled. "I'm on _administrative leave_, not suspension. Nothing's been proven. It's all just baseless accusations." He gave Carlos a calculating look and said, "Tough break for you… not being able to remember anything. Not even Cupcake here."

Carlos frowned at the nickname, and then looked at me. I'd never talked about Joe's and my personal relationship except as it related to Carlos, and Cupcake definitely didn't relate. I gave my head a slight shake, hoping he would drop it. Hoping both men would drop it. But Joe was feeling the need to compete in the only way he felt he had left.

"Of course, you don't call her Cupcake. What was it you called her? Oh yeah…"

As soon as he started this line of conversation, I took a step back so Carlos couldn't see me and frantically tried to catch Joe's eye. When Joe finally looked at me, I silently pleaded with him to shut up, hoping for once he would understand and go along with my wishes.

I silently mouthed, '_Please, no_.' It took Joe several moments of staring at me, before he looked back at Carlos.

Joe finally said, "Yeah, your little Bombshell Bounty Hunter here was quite the walking disaster when it came to destroying cars and buildings. And it was usually your cars she destroyed. Look her up on the Internet. Lots of newspaper articles about _our_ Steph."

When Joe looked back at me, I mouthed, '_Thank you_.'

I stepped forward again and loudly interrupted, "Well, Joe, I know you have things to do and we're busy too, so…"

With his voice heavy with sarcasm, Joe quipped, "Yeah, my social and professional calendar is jammed packed." Giving Carlos a head nod, Joe said, "Glad you're not dead, Mañoso, for Steph's sake." Joe pivoted on his heels and quickly walked over to his truck.

Carlos and I walked over to the Porsche as Joe was buckling his seat belt. His window was open as he drove away, and I could hear the strains of a song playing loudly over the stereo. I recognized the slow melody and the gravelly voice. It was a bittersweet song and an old one. It must have been on a CD. Joe never played the country western stations.

_I saw someone again today _

_Who remembered me and you. _

_They asked all the same old questions _

_I gave the same excuse. _

_They said what a shame, what a shame _

_To lose a love so fine, _

_But I never lost you, I never lost you _

_I never lost you, you were never mine._

_._

_I kept on believing _

_What I wanted to believe _

_The unspoken promises _

_That you could never keep, _

_But it's a sin, oh it's a sin _

_To tell yourself a lie. _

_I never lost you, I never lost you _

_I never lost you, you were never mine._

_._

_Did you give me all you that gave me _

_Just because I needed you, _

_But when I needed all your love completely _

_Was it more than you could do?_

_._

_Sometimes deep in the night _

_When I hold you in my dreams _

_I get lost in your loving touch, baby _

_I can't believe how real it seems _

_And I know, yes I know _

_I'll have you 'till the end of time _

_'Cause I never lost you, I never really lost you _

_I never lost you, 'cause you were never mine._

_._

_I never lost you, I never really lost you. _

_How could I lose you? You were never mine._

AN: Song is _'You Were Never Mine'_ by Delbert McClinton.


	43. Chapter 43 What Do You Think?

**Chapter 43 — What Do You Think?**

_To get anywhere, or even to live a long time, a man has to guess, and guess right, _

_over and over again, without enough data for a logical answer._

Stephanie's POV

Carlos and I went back to RangeMan after lunch. We'd tried a new vegetarian restaurant – Carlos' idea. I had the meatless lasagna followed by a gooey sinfully rich chocolate parfait. He had something called a keenwah (quinoa) salad and slices of melon for dessert. He was hopeless when it came to good eating, but no one's perfect. I figured he made up for this one serious flaw in so many other delightful ways.

I wanted to get right into my research on Joe's case so Carlos and I parted with a brief but playful kiss as soon as we stepped out onto the fifth floor. He and Tank had another 'reassure the client' meeting this afternoon so I wouldn't see him again until later in the evening. If I'd been the one to lose my memory and had to somehow 'fit' back into my old life I'd be a basket case, but Carlos didn't seem stressed at all. He was Mr. Cool, Calm and Collected. After meeting with over a dozen major clients this past week, Carlos was able to restore his customers' confidence that their homes and businesses were safe in RangeMan's hands.

As I meandered over to my cubicle, I noticed the men manning the control room 'snap' to attention as the 'boss man' walked behind me and checked in on them before he and Tank left the floor. He hadn't even been back in town two weeks, and Ranger was definitely 'in the house.' He seemed to instinctively have this intimidating presence about him that even the loss of memory couldn't erase.

I started my computer search into Elena Benneau and got so engrossed in it that I lost all track of time. I didn't stop until I felt this tingling in the back of my neck. A moment later I smelled the distinctive scent of Bulgari immediately followed by a pair of warm lips pressed against the junction of my neck and shoulder.

"Querida, it's nearly 7. Have you been sitting here glued to the computer since I left?" Carlos murmured into my ear.

I stretched up my arms and folded them around his head bringing him forward so I could give him a lopsided kiss.

"Yeah. I've been working on the drug theft case and my searches have only raised more questions."

Carlos pulled up a chair and sat down next to me. "Talk to me."

I sighed disappointedly. "According to the gang task force notes, Joe was the only task force member who was at all the meetings at the different police departments the days they reported thefts from their evidence lockers. But I still don't believe Joe would do something like this."

Carlos raised an eyebrow at me, but he didn't challenge my assumption that Joe was innocent. Instead he asked a different leading question. "What other individuals would have reason to be at all those locations on those dates? The departments are scattered all over New Jersey and each city police department operates autonomously."

"I know. The gang task force is a rare example of interdepartmental cooperation. I couldn't find anything, not another task force or a cleaning company, nothing that the departments had in common." I shook my head in frustration. "My next step is to visit each PD and talk to the police chief and to the officers manning the evidence lockers."

Carlos turned away and stared into space, a thoughtful look on his face. When he faced me again, his next question surprised me. "Did Elena herself visit those departments?"

I let out an embarrassed chuckle because that was one of the first things I checked. "Well, she attended about half of the task force meetings, but she was at her office in Newark for the other ones."

I tapped my pencil on a yellow notepad that lay next to my keyboard. "I've actually been tracing the background of Ms. Benneau. Since she was the one doing the investigations before the case was turned over to the DEA, I thought she was fair game. She's the one who accused Joe Morelli of taking the drugs based solely on the fact that Joe was present. I thought something might turn up if I looked into her past."

"Tell me what you found." He picked up my notepad and started looking over my scribblings.

I gave him a verbal rundown. "She began working for the New Jersey Attorney General's Office about 18 months ago. Before that, I traced her work history backward through a number of law firms. She rose quickly and never stayed more than two years at any one place. Elena was definitely on the fast track."

"Where did she get her law degree?" he asked.

"At Rutgers School of Law, but then my search took a different turn. It seemed Elena got married during her last few months of law school. Her maiden name is Elena Parque. When she was 26, she married Christian Benneau, age 66."

"Forty-year age difference. Must be true love." Carlos shot me an amused look.

"Don't be so cynical. It could happen," I replied, a little defensively. I believed in true love.

He just gave me a blank stare and then asked, "What's the husband's background?"

"The first thing I found was his obit. According to the newspaper article, Mr. Benneau died at his family estate about four years after he married Elena. He was also survived by a grown son from an earlier marriage."

"Don't tell me the son and his new stepmommy are an item?"

"It doesn't sound like it. The son Charles unsuccessfully contested his father's Will, which left the family fortune, and it is a _considerable_ fortune, to his new wife Elena. The Benneaus are an old New Jersey family who made their money in shipping. Christian was the only Benneau heir who stayed in the family business and he continued the tradition of making money hand over fist. He married in his late twenties and had only the one son who chose not to follow in his father and grandfather's footsteps. The son became a successful artist and gallery owner, financed by his trust fund."

"What else did you find?"

I took my notepad from him and glanced over my notes. "I continued my research into Elena's background, now looking for Elena Parque. I discovered she got her undergraduate degree from Rutgers School of Criminal Justice. It seems she'd been interested in the legal system even as a teenager."

Carlos nodded at me to continue.

"I couldn't find any history of her in Newark before then. It took some digging, but I finally tracked down an Elena Parque who attended Pleasantville High School. Pleasantville is a suburb just outside of Atlantic City. With some more digging I found an obituary for a Nicole Parque, who was survived by two daughters, Elena and Ana, ages 17 and 15 respectively."

"What did you come up with regarding her younger sister?"

"I haven't been able to find much on Ana Parque. She attended the same high school as Elena and I found matriculation papers for her at Rutgers, but she dropped out before she even finished her first semester. I couldn't find anything on her for the last six years."

"I have a few ideas for that," he said, but could see I had more to tell him and motioned me on.

I flipped the page and looked up at Carlos. "I found a marriage certificate for a Peter and Nicole Parque. Do I really need to go back this far?"

"The best way not to be surprised is to follow all leads. You may never use the info, but it pays to be prepared. Plus, it's good for you to know how to find all this data."

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, I'll run the parents for work and tax histories." I brought up the relevant programs and typed in the names. Carlos disappeared for a few moments coming back with two mugs of coffee. We waited for the programs to complete their search. There were no reported work history or tax filings for Nicole. As for Peter, I found a few early tax filings when he worked for one of the casinos in Atlantic City as a Blackjack dealer. But after that, he seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth, as far as the Internet was concerned. I couldn't find any additional work history, no driver's license, no passport, and no obituary. How did he make a living?

All this led me to wonder how Elena could afford to attend Rutgers. There was no mention of a scholarship. It was time to talk to her again. But I couldn't let her know I was 'investigating' her. This was going to be tricky. I didn't think I could pull off a 'gal-palship' with her and just start asking all sorts of personal questions about her past without her getting suspicious.

. . .

The next morning, I drove up to Newark and met Elena at the Attorney General's office. I told her I needed more information on her investigation findings. We went over her process again and what else she looked at before concluding that Joe was the only suspect. She was very forthcoming and personable with me, which I took as a good sign for my next move. When we took a coffee break, I brought out the big guns – a pastry box full of assorted donuts. Elena reached for my favorite, the Boston Cream. I smiled to myself. All that sugar, lard and chocolate should loosen her tongue.

As we both started in on our second donut, I brought my family into the conversation. "This brings back fond family memories. Every Sunday after Mass, we'd stop by the local bakery and my grandmother would let my sister and I pick out a dozen – or two – donuts. We'd pig out on these babies while we helped Mom make Sunday dinner."

"Sounds like you're close to your sister," Elena said.

I nodded. "When we were younger, we were. How 'bout you? Any siblings?" I took a sip of my coffee.

Elena stared at me intently before replying. "I had a sister."

"Had?"

Her glance slid over me and her voice went cold. "She's dead."

"I'm so sorry," I sympathized.

She rose up out of her chair and turned away, but I could hear her muttering under her breath, "_Someone's_ going to be."

_What did she mean by that?_

A middle-aged woman stuck her head into the room and spoke to Elena. "Mr. Costa would like to see you, Ms. Benneau. He's waiting for you in his office." And then she quickly retreated.

Elena turned to me and gave her apologies. "I'm sorry, but I have to go when the boss calls. You know how it is." She stuck out her hand. We shook hands and she was gone. I hadn't learned very much, at least not the kind of information I had hoped for. I got back in my car and headed toward Trenton.

Tomorrow, Carlos and I were flying down to Florida for his doctor's appointment and then we'd visit Julie. We would be gone for several days and I didn't want to lose momentum on Joe's case. I dug my phone out of the bottom of my handbag and called Pax.

"Hey, it's Steph. I just finished my second interview with Elena Benneau. There's something not quite right with her. I don't know what it is, but I can't let it go. I'd like to ask Curt to tail her for a few days. Is that alright with you?"

Pax was silent for a minute. "Is this one of your hunches or do you have some evidence that she's wrong about Morelli? Because my experience of that asshole would lead me to believe he's perfectly capable of the crime he's accused of."

I sighed. "It's just a hunch at this point, but it's one I feel strongly about."

"Strong enough for me to send Curt all the way to Trenton for several days just to do surveillance on the _investigator_, not the investigatee?"

"Yes," I said, crossing my fingers.

"Okay." And then he disconnected. My life was filled with a world of men who had absolutely no phone etiquette.

. . .

The flight to Jacksonville was uneventful. Carlos was quiet, as usual, and I was my usual fidgeting chatterbox, talking nonstop because I was nervous. Nervous about what we would find out after Carlos underwent the many tests his doctor had mentioned over the phone.

What if there was no hope for him regaining his memories? What if there was a chance he could regain his memories, but only if he risked dangerous brain surgery? What if, what if, what if?

Carlos reached over and took my fidgeting hands in his. "We'll know soon enough what my options are. There's no point in worrying about it now. Tell me… where do you think we should take Julie?"

I tried to shove my worries aside and concentrate on Carlos. "Are you sure you want me to tag along with you? Wouldn't it be better if it was just you and Julie getting to know one another?"

He was staring directly at me and it was the only time I'd ever seen fear in his eyes. "NO!" burst from his lips before he visibly regained his composure. He saw me wince and relaxed the grip he had on my hand. "I want you with me… I mean with Julie and me. She knows you and is comfortable with you." His thumb massaged the back of my hand as he continued to try to convince me to go with him when he met Julie.

I still felt he should spend the day with alone with his daughter, but I could see he really wanted me there. This was a man who could go into any situation, social or dangerous, and rise to the occasion, except when it came to his own flesh and blood daughter. If Julie only knew what power she had over her father.

Carlos had made reservations for us at a nice hotel on the grounds of the Mayo Clinic in Jacksonville. The rooms were very nice, and Carlos made a point of telling me I could order from room service anytime I wanted. There was an upscale restaurant and a casual diner within the hotel as well as a pool and an exercise room. His reasoning for picking this hotel was that much of our stay would be spent with him being poked and prodded for several days, leaving me with nothing to do. Staying at a hotel within walking distance of all Clinic facilities would allow me to go back to our room during the day.

Our first evening in Jacksonville was as relaxing as it was going to get, given the stressful circumstances. We had a delicious dinner in the main dining room, but the conversation between us was stilted. We were both trying to avoid the proverbial elephant at the table. _What would the medical tests find?_ After I scarfed down my hot fudge sundae, we retired to our room.

Our lovemaking that night was slow, sensuous and passionate. It might be the last time we made love as we were now, without Ranger's memories. Neither of us talked very much, not wanting to think about how our lives might change after seeing the neurologist tomorrow. The doctor appointment was scheduled for 8 a.m.

Morning came all too quickly. Carlos tried to get me to stay in bed and order breakfast while he went to his appointment, but I was having none of that. We walked hand in hand down the palm tree-lined Mayo Boulevard to the Memory Disorder Clinic.

The Clinic was in a large multi-storied white building surrounded by greenery and lagoons. The interior was bright, white and clean and decorated with tasteful modern art. The receptionist was very polite yet pleasant as she ushered us into a spacious masculine office. We'd arrived a few minutes before our scheduled appointment – Carlos' proclivity for punctuality. The room was dominated by a large mahogany desk and comfortable leather chairs. Behind the desk were built-in bookshelves filled with medical texts. We took seats in front of the desk and settled in to wait.

Promptly at 8, Dr. Gillette joined us. He was a tall, fatherly looking man in his late fifties. He had gray hair and a kindly, wrinkled face. He reminded me of Marcus Welby, M.D., a 1970s TV doctor played by Robert Young. He had a ready smile and a warm handshake, and I instantly trusted him. He began with cordial pleasantries and asked about our trip before pulling out Carlos' file. Carlos had filled out a complete medical history and answered a lengthy questionnaire beforehand and it was clear that Dr. Gillette was familiar with everything in the file.

He immediately began to ask Carlos questions. "Mr. Mañoso, please tell me in your own words what you remember about how you lost your memory."

Carlos related what he'd been told by Joran of the mine explosion and his narrow escape from both the mine and the river. He explained that he'd been rescued by members of the primitive Amazonian Ye'kuana tribe.

When Dr. Gillette inquired about the extent of his wounds, Carlos confessed he couldn't remember very much about that first week or two with the Ye'kuana and even less about his injuries. It was obvious how much he hated to admit what he considered to be a weakness.

I jumped in and added what both Yada and Joran had told me about 'operating' on Carlos and related what I remembered about the size and condition of the metal fragments I'd seen. Yada had told me there were a few pieces of shrapnel embedded too deeply within Carlos for her to safely remove. She specifically mentioned one fragment she had to leave in that was lodged in his skull.

Dr. Gillette asked several more questions neither of us could answer. One question involved the type of 'surgical' equipment Yada had used. He informed Carlos that much of what he needed to know would be answered during the physical examination of Carlos' scars and subsequent x-rays.

"So, in the past year since your trauma, you've regained no memories of your personal history?" the doctor asked.

Carlos shook his head. "None." He glanced over at me before turning back to the doctor. "The only thing that even remotely triggered any familiarity was Stephanie. I seemed to have a connection to her even before I saw her for the first time a few months ago, but it was only a vague sense that there was 'something' in my past, a woman with brilliant blue eyes that I needed to get back to." Carlos's mouth turned up ever so slightly at the edges as he said this. I could feel my eyes filling up with tears at his admission. He must also trust this doctor to share such a personal thing with him.

Dr. Gillette smiled broadly at both of us. "Love is a powerful force and one not easily explainable in medical terms. From what you've told me, you were lucky to have found each other again." He looked back through the many pages of paper in the file. "You were treated by the Army for a gunshot wound in the shoulder a few months back."

Carlos nodded. "It's healed. The doctors there wanted to perform other tests, but I refused treatment. At that time, I didn't feel comfortable with the Army doctors poking around in my head."

"Well, we're going to do some poking around today if that's alright with you, Mr. Mañoso?"

Again, Carlos nodded. I swallowed hard and felt sick to my stomach.

Dr. Gillette proceeded to explain the tests they would run. There would be a combination of medical and psychological exams to determine the extent of the memory loss. Many of the tests would rule out possible causes, but hopefully, one would pinpoint the problem and lead to a solution.

"Normally, I would recommend an MRI, a magnetic resonance imaging procedure, but if you have any metal fragments still embedded in your body, that option is contraindicated. The strong magnet used in this test could cause any internal fragment to move, possibly even rip out of your body. At the very minimum, the fragment would heat up causing damage to the surrounding tissue. So, we will start with a simple x-ray and then maybe a CT scan."

I wanted to stay, but both men convinced me Carlos would be in good hands and he would be busy all day long with one test after another. Dr. Gillette (I wanted to call him Dr. Welby so bad) took my hand in his and reassured me he would return Carlos to me in one piece at the end of the day. I left the office as the doctor led Carlos through a set of double doors marked 'Authorized Personnel Only.'

What was I going to do all day besides go crazy? I returned to our room and flung myself across the bed in my thinking position. Luckily for me and for anyone else within earshot, I fell asleep and didn't get up until my stomach growled so loudly it woke me up. I went downstairs and had lunch in the diner and kept my waiter busy by constantly asking for Coke refills.

By mid-afternoon, I was back in the reception area pacing impatiently. I'd already talked the poor receptionist's ear off for an hour and a half and now she just looked pityingly over at me each time I strode past her desk.

Finally, just before 5, Carlos exited those hateful double doors that barred me from seeking him out. He looked a little haggard, but he gave me a smile as he hugged me. "You ready to go?" he asked.

"No, I love it here," I said, my voice dripping sarcasm. "Let's stay a few more hours and stare at these white walls so I can go _completely crazy_."

He put his arm around my shoulders and guided me out into the warm sunshine. "Well?" I asked, not able to stand not knowing any longer.

"Let's get something to eat and I'll fill you in."

Great! More waiting. I started power walking, forcing Carlos to lengthen his stride to keep up with me. "Slow down, Querida. I'm OK. But we do have a decision to make."

_WE?_ What was with this _'we'_ thing? I stopped dead in my tracks and Carlos had to spin around to face me. He could see I'd run out of patience and calm. Grabbing my hand he led me down a path to one of the lagoons. We found a bench and sat, me wringing my hands and Carlos leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. I almost wished he had on his blank face; he looked pensive. Trying to calm myself, I inhaled deeply through my nose and exhaled through my mouth several times while Carlos silently stared at the ducks paddling around the lagoon.

I slipped my hand into his and was rewarded with a smile. Not the 200-watt variety, but a genuine smile nonetheless. He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed my palm.

"I now know what caused my amnesia," he began. His voice was matter of fact, with no inflection, and little hope.

I tightened my grip on his hand and blinked my eyes fast, trying to stop the tears from coming.

"There's a large metal fragment lodged in my brain," Carlos explained. "It's deep inside my left temporal lobe." He rubbed his hand along the left side of his head just above his ear. "That's the area of the brain that stores a person's memories, among other things. The fragment has been in there for over a year and the gray matter of my brain has grown around it."

He pressed my fingers against his scalp and I could feel a slight raised area, hardened with scar tissue. "If the fragment had been removed right after it happened, it would have been a simple matter of sliding it out and letting my brain heal. But now, the only way to remove it is to cut through the scarred tissue and remove some of my brain along with the fragment."

I felt like I was going to throw up. The only thing I could think about was 'brain surgery' and 'removing part of the brain.' Wouldn't that result in 'brain damage?'

I jumped up from the bench and started walking away, but the path got all blurry and I couldn't walk in a straight line. I felt his arms circle around me and fold me into his broad chest. Somewhere, someone was crying and Carlos' shirt was getting wetter and wetter. We stood like that for an eternity, or at least for several minutes until I stopped bawling like a baby.

Carlos tilted his head down and gave me a little grin. "You done with the waterworks?"

I nodded and hiccupped. He led me back to the bench. This time he drew me up against him spoon fashion and wrapped me tightly in his arms before he spoke again.

"I don't have to have the surgery." He kissed the top of my head. "The doctor says the fragment has done all the damage it's going to do. I can do nothing and get on with my life just as it is now. And that's pretty damn good." This time he kissed my neck sending shivers down my spine. I had to give him that – our life _was_ pretty damn good.

"Dr. Gillette also said if I have the surgery, there is no guarantee I'll get any of my memory back. The fragment burrowed into my memory center, but most of it is still intact. The impact severed some critical connections which is why I have amnesia, but it didn't seem to destroy very much actual brain matter. If the fragment is removed there is a chance the connections may reform and my memory could be restored wholly or in part, at least. It would take months for the connections to grow back, if they even can."

I looked up at him, more questions on the tip of my tongue, but I was too afraid to ask them.

He stared back out over the water and I felt him tense up. "There is also a chance the surgery could leave me in worse shape than I am now. I could lose my recent memory and maybe even other functions, cognitive functions." His mouth tightened into a thin line and his jaw muscles flexed as he unconsciously ground his teeth.

It was bad enough before losing Ranger and all that made him who he was. He couldn't remember me or all that we shared, how we met or our friendship over the years. I could live with that. But to lose the last few months too? To possibly lose the very essence of him? His sharp intellect, his dry sense of humor, his very personality. Omigod!

We sat on the bench, arms clasped tightly around each other, silent, both of us deep in thought. Twilight fell and still we sat. Until my stomach rumbled.

Carlos finally shifted position so that our cheeks touched.

"What do you think, Stephanie? Should I have the surgery… or not?"

.

_AN: I'm sorry it has taken me so long to continue this story. Some medical issues have laid me low and affected my muse. All seems to be back to normal now, so hopefully the rest of this story will come easier and be in your hands soon. _**What do you think Carlos should do?**


	44. Chapter 44 For Better or For Worse

**Chapter 44—For Better or For Worse**

_It's not hard to make decisions when you know what your values are._

Carlos' POV

"What do you think, Stephanie? Should I have the surgery… or not?" I asked.

Her answer would shape the rest of my life, for better or for worse. It's not that I was indecisive. Far from it. I already knew what my decision would be, if I were making it for myself. But, now… the decision was hers to make. She not only held my heart, she held my very life in her hands. Her choice was the only one I would consider, the only one that mattered to me.

_There's something in the way she moves,_

_or looks my way, or calls my name_

_that seems to leave this troubled world behind._

_If I'm feeling down and blue,_

_or troubled by some foolish game,_

_she always seems to make me change my mind._

It's funny how simple my life had become once I accepted that everything in it revolved around this vibrant bundle of curly-haired loving energy. As long as Stephanie was at my center, life was good – life was worth living.

_And I feel fine anytime she's around me now._

_She's around me now almost all the time._

_And if I'm well you can tell she's been with me now._

_She's been with me now_

_quite a long, long time and I feel fine._

Given what little I knew about my past, this might seem to be a contradiction, but I saw it differently. I've lived my entire life with a gaping hole in it, until now. If you'd asked me a few months ago, I would have said the 'hole' was my missing memories, but now I know it was her. If you'd asked me about it a few years ago, I wonder what my answer would have been? Because I know with certainty the same hole existed then. But as long as Stephanie was by my side, I felt whole and at peace. I would do nothing to jeopardize that.

_Every now and then the things I lean on lose their meaning_

_and I find myself careening into places where I should not let me go._

_She has the power to go where no one else can find me._

_Yes, and to silently remind me_

_of the happiness and the good times that I know,_

_and then I just have to go then._

I felt her tense up as I asked her the fate-deciding question. And then she started to tremble. She lifted her cheek away from mine and shook her head slowly, back and forth.

I could feel her breathing quicken and she took one deep breath before any sound issued from her luscious lips.

"_Noooo_, _nonononono_. Don't _ask_ me that. This is _your_ decision. I can't be responsible for something like that. I could never make that kind of decision. You know me, I live in Denial Land. I don't make decisions." She continued to shake her head and tried to squirm out of my arms.

I did my best to calm her and keep her next to me. We both needed the physical connection. "It's okay, Querida. The decision doesn't need to be made right now. Let's put this aside for now and just enjoy a quiet evening together." I felt her relax a little and lean back into me. After several minutes, she stirred again.

"What happens tomorrow?" she asked.

Good! She was still in this with me. "I meet with the neurosurgeon. He will have looked over the tests I took today and he'll have consulted with Dr. Gillette. He'll probably want me to have another CT scan and some other tests. Then, on Friday, we'll meet with both the neurosurgeon and Dr. Gillette and they'll give us their recommendations."

"You want _me_ there when they talk to you?" she asked, her voice still shaky.

"It would mean a lot to me to have you there," I told her.

She was chewing on her lower lip and her arms were on top of mine holding them tightly against her torso. I waited. Finally, she nodded and the tightness in my chest eased up. I hadn't even realized how tense I'd been.

She tilted her head and gave me a slow smile. "Well, _I guess_ I can clear my busy schedule." The smile spread and lifted her cheeks as she said, "If you need me on Friday, then I'm all yours." I leaned down and kissed her very kissable lips and then relaxed against the bench.

_It isn't what she's got to say but how she thinks and where she's been._

_To me, the words are nice, the way they sound._

_I like to hear them best that way, it doesn't much matter what they mean._

_But she says them mostly just to calm me down._

I didn't want her to have to go through this, but I needed to know which way she was leaning. If she was terrified of me having the surgery and could live with things the way they were, I wouldn't go through with the operation. If she really missed everything she shared with Ranger and could accept the risks, then I'd choose surgery. But she needed to hear all the possibilities and the risks. I wanted her to be able to ask the doctors any questions she might have. She refused to acknowledge it, but Stephanie Plum was the strongest person I knew. And simply put, I needed her.

_And I feel fine anytime she's around me now._

_She's around me now almost all the time._

_And if I'm well you can tell she's been with me now._

_She's been with me now quite a long, long time, yes, and I feel fine._

Both of us were hungry, so we left the lagoon area and walked hand in hand back to the hotel. Stephanie insisted the café was as fancy as she wanted, so we settled for plain diner fare. But true to her nature, Stephanie ordered a piece of chocolate cake to go, saying she deserved a treat after stressing out all day.

When we got to our room, I drew a bath in the oversized Jacuzzi and asked Steph to join me, telling her it would help with her 'stress.' I couldn't remember the last time I took a bath, but it was worth it to be able to hold her and feel her bare skin moving against mine.

Within minutes, she was totally relaxed and lay between my legs, her back against my chest. I took great pleasure in caressing and stroking her body under the warm water. By now, I knew her body well and what aroused her. It wasn't long before she was uttering those soft little cries that told me she was on the verge of coming. I loved that she opened herself so fully to me and it was a thrill to know I had the power to bring her to such a peak of sexual gratification.

We dried each other off and made our way to the bed. I lay back against the headboard and she eagerly returned the 'favor,' sending me into my version of languorous bliss. I guess _we both_ knew each other's bodies well. An hour later, we both enjoyed another form of bliss, but this time neither of us was lazy nor languid. Sex with Stephanie was invigorating, to say the least. Sleep came easily and I was totally refreshed the next morning.

I got in a quick workout and after breakfast, Steph walked with me down to the Clinic, but refused to go in. She said she had some phone calls and emails to catch up on and would meet me back in the room at dinnertime. I watched her walk away, her hips swinging in an exaggerated fashion just for my lustful benefit. I was a lucky man.

_And I feel fine anytime she's around me now._

_She's around me now almost all the time._

_And if I'm well you can tell she's been with me now._

_She's been with me now quite a long, long time, yes, and I feel fine._

Dr. Chun, the neurosurgeon, was waiting for me when I reached his office. He introduced himself and we shook hands. He sat across from me instead of behind his desk. He was younger than I'd expected, probably in his mid-forties. He had a no-nonsense approach and got right to the point. I appreciated his direct, unemotional style.

"Your case of amnesia involves the loss of your declarative memory – your personal episodic memories. Your other forms of memory, such as semantic and procedural memory, seem to be unaffected. You've retained your language skills and abstract facts, as well as your physical skills such as the ability to perform martial arts. You're lucky, Mr. Mañoso, relatively speaking."

My facial expression must have given away my derisive thoughts, as Dr. Chun stopped speaking momentarily and stared at me. He continued, "I meant lucky in the sense that you have a straightforward case with an obvious cause, though it still may be a difficult one to resolve. Determining the etiology of most cases usually isn't so simple. The cause of your amnesia is clearly evident. You were struck with shrapnel and it embedded itself in your left temporal lobe severing the synapses that are crucial to allowing your brain access to your personal memories."

Dr. Chun pulled out a large black and white negative and walked over to the nearest wall. He flicked the scan up on a lighted wall display. I joined him. The scan showed what I expected, a black and white negative image of my brain.

"From the CT scan you had done yesterday, it appears as if the majority of your memory center is still intact, but your brain no longer has the necessary connections to access that memory." He tapped his finger on an irregular white object in the middle of the screen – the metal fragment. I was surprised how deep in and how tiny it was. How could something so small cause so much trouble?

He continued. "I understand there were extenuating circumstances that prevented you from receiving the needed surgery immediately following the accident. Because of that enforced delay, your body healed itself as best it could and walled off the fragment within your brain." He pointed out the darkened perimeter that surrounded the fragment. Scar tissue. "This will make removing the fragment difficult, but not impossible. I'd like for you to have a special type of scan this morning that will provide me with a clearer view of the affected area. It will give me the information I need to determine just how much scar tissue will have to be excised along with the fragment. There's no way of knowing what part of your memory was destroyed. But after the fragment is removed and the scar tissue excised, the prognosis for at least partial restoration of your memories is excellent."

I had to ask, "There has definitely been some permanent loss of memory then?"

Dr. Chun gave me the answer I expected but didn't want to hear. "Yes. Even if this surgery is 100 percent effective, meaning the connections regrow and your brain is able to access your memories, you will not regain all your memory back."

"What is the prognosis for the connections reforming?"

"I'll be able to answer that more accurately after the next scan. Also, during surgery, I will be using a fluoroscope so I'll have a real time visual image while operating. Because of the ionizing radiation though, we will have to carefully balance the risks with the benefits of the procedure. We'll use low dose rates during the fluoroscopic procedure, but if the surgery is lengthy you will absorb a relatively high radiation dose. With the high tech equipment now available we can reduce the exposure to some extent. There may be some mild erythema, the equivalent of a sunburn. In addition, by combining the fluoroscope with X-ray image intensifiers we can 'pulse' the image so there will not be a constant source of radiation to your brain. And in your case, since the object is static, we'll do what is called a _last image hold_ which "freezes" the screen without exposing you to unnecessary radiation."

Damn! This just keeps getting better and better. These were the kind of details Stephanie did not need to hear.

"Let's get on with the testing, Dr. Chun."

The doctor walked me out to the nurse, a tall kind looking woman who placed her hand lightly on my elbow as she led me down the hall. She told me she was there to answer any questions I might have. Her manner was calm and reassuring without being condescending. She began the necessary arrangements for me to undergo today's tests, encouraging me in her best professional manner. She didn't realize how ready I was to have this behind me.

The rest of the day passed by in agonizing slowness with one test after another. I also met with a psychologist to determine how I was handling my amnesia and the prospects of brain surgery. This is probably what it felt like when I was undergoing debriefing after a difficult mission. I guess in a sense I was, though this had to be even harder to endure because it was much more personal instead of the clinical approach most Army psychologists took, based on my experience at Fort Carson. By the end of the day I felt drained and was looking forward to a quiet evening with Stephanie.

. . .

Friday morning Steph and I made our way down the now familiar walkway to the Clinic. The receptionist greeted us by name and ushered us into a small conference room. She pointed out the coffee station and told us to help ourselves. Within a few minutes, Dr. Gillette, followed by Dr. Chun and Dr. Foster, the psychologist, entered the room and took seats across the table from us. After a round of introductions and polite pleasantries, Dr. Gillette began the discussion.

He went over the various test results and put up several of the negatives of my scans. Dr. Chun added his conclusions. Dr. Foster sat back and observed both Steph and I. After listening to the professionals speak for nearly an hour, Stephanie raised her hand. I wanted to chuckle at her schoolgirl approach to the situation, but kept my face blank.

"Yes, Ms. Plum, you have a question?" Dr. Gillette said, turning to Stephanie.

"When Carlos first told me about the surgery, he said he might lose some of the memory that he's… accumulated in the past year. And that he might even lose other functions. Is that true?"

Dr. Chun leaned forward. "There is a slight possibility of that, but after examining the scans we did yesterday, I am confident that won't happen. I'll be using state of the art microsurgery techniques, which will enable me to only remove the damaged scar tissue and leave the healthy tissue intact."

She raised her hand again, this time getting a smile from Dr. Gillette. "You talked about the radiation risk. What does that mean? I know it can cause burns, but what else does it do?"

Dr. Chun nodded, as if he expected the question. "The radiation inherent in doing any fluoroscopy is always a concern, but in Mr. Mañoso's case, the risk will be greatly reduced because we won't need to constantly monitor blood flow and other moving images. I will only need a few 'frozen' images of different angles to effectively remove the fragment and scar tissue. He may not even experience any burned tissue. He will have to have the left side of his head shaved though."

Stephanie whipped around and raised her hand to my head running her fingers through my hair. My hair had finally started to grow back from the short haircut I'd had in San Francisco. She sighed audibly.

I took her hand away and squeezed it as I brought it down to rest on my thigh. Leaning into her, I quietly reassured her, "It'll grow back, Querida."

She shifted back to the doctors and asked, "What's the worst case scenario?" As much as she insisted she gladly lived in denial, she was going for broke today. I kept my hand on top of hers.

Dr. Chun fielded the question. "There is always a risk in any surgery. The extremes include uncontrollable bleeding, damage to other parts of the brain and, of course, death, but Mr. Mañoso is in excellent health and is a strong and fit man. And I am an excellent surgeon with the best staff and equipment available. So, in my opinion, the worst case is that we remove the fragment and there is no change from his current condition, meaning his amnesia would be permanent."

Steph had gulped audibly when the doctor casually mentioned death, but she recovered admirably. Trying to appear in control, she asked, "And if you work your magic?"

She finally got a smile from the stoic Dr. Chun. "The best case scenario, Ms. Plum, is that Mr. Mañoso regains the majority of his memory and he continues to live a long, healthy and happy life."

Dr. Foster spoke for the first and only time. "Which, from what he's told me, would only happen if _you_ remain in it, Ms. Plum."

Steph's eyes got big and she blushed furiously. As she turned to face me, an incredulous look crossed her face. "You said that?" she asked, her voice hardly more than a whisper.

I raised my eyebrows slightly and turned my hands palm up in a gesture of acquiescence.

Dr. Gillette cleared his throat drawing our attention back to the matter at hand. "If you are in agreement, we can schedule the surgery for Monday," he said.

Again, Steph's eyes got big and there was a look of fear in them. I answered for both of us. "We'd like to have some time to talk it over. Can I call with our answer later this weekend?"

Dr. Gillette and Dr. Chun both agreed that Saturday would be soon enough for our answer. We all stood and shook hands and I led Steph out of the Clinic and back into the warm sunshine Florida was so famous for.

I thought we needed a change of pace, so I steered Steph to the hotel parking lot and we got in our rental car. I drove us east out of town and in thirty minutes we were at Jacksonville Beach. We walked out onto the pier and found a quiet bench facing the ocean. There were several older men fishing from the pier and a few couples walking hand in hand, but for a warm Friday, the area was relatively quiet.

I let Stephanie settle in and enjoy the scenery and peaceful beach atmosphere. When I felt her fidget a little I knew it was time to begin the hard conversation we needed to have.

"Steph, I'd like to hear your thoughts regarding the surgery. No decision yet, just what you're thinking."

She abruptly stood up and tucked one leg under her before sitting back down. I had my arm stretched out along the back of the bench and couldn't resist playing with her curls.

She kept her hands in her lap and looked anywhere but at me as she started talking. "I'll admit it, I'm scared. There are no guarantees with any surgery and something could always go wrong, no matter _how good_ a surgeon Dr. Chun thinks he is," she said, the tone of her voice indicating a hint of righteous disdain.

"Nothing's going to go wrong," I tried to reassure her.

"Yeah, I've heard that line before, you said it just before you left me for your last mission and _you know how that turned out_," she snapped, and then immediately was contrite. "I'm sorry, I know you don't remember anything you said back then. But I'm scared… I'm scared we'll lose what we have now… and I couldn't bear that," she said, her voice trembling.

I pulled her closer and put both arms around her. How could I reassure her? How could I get her over her fear? I took a risk. "Is your spidey sense telling you that I shouldn't have the surgery?"

She shot me a penetrating look, as if trying to decide whether I was making fun of her. Finally she answered, "No, I'm not getting any feeling but a sick queasy rolling in my stomach when I think of you going under the knife."

"Dr. Chun explained that it would be a fairly quick surgery and the recovery time would also be quick," I said, trying to ease her concerns.

"I heard what he said and I admit that it doesn't seem to be as bad as I first thought, but…"

"But what?" I asked, lightly rubbing my hand along her back.

She let a huge breath of air. "But what if you only get _bad_ memories back? What if you don't remember the good times?"

I leaned over and breathed in the floral scent of her hair. "I don't think it works that way. I may not regain the memories from a certain time period, but it won't be just good or bad things."

"What if…?"

"Go ahead. What if _what?_"

She was actually starting to shake. "What if we lose the connection we have or you don't feel the same way about me?"

"You're really worried about this, aren't you?" I asked, dropping my head so I could look directly into her eyes. Those beautiful blue orbs were sparkling, but with unshed tears, not her usual teasing gaiety. I couldn't put her through this.

"Don't worry about this anymore, Querida. I won't have the surgery; not if it makes you this miserable."

She looked up at me and I was rewarded with a smile, not a huge ear-splitting smile, but it was enough.

We left the pier hand in hand and found a little seafood place just down the beach and had a late lunch. Stephanie was obviously feeling better and packed away all of her fish and chips and a good portion of my shrimp cocktail.

We had one more night in Jacksonville and early tomorrow, we'd fly down to Miami and spend the day with Julie. I'd planned a Sunday afternoon meeting with Silvio at the Miami RangeMan office and an evening flight back to Jacksonville. I'd have to change that last flight for one directly back to Trenton.

It was time to get on with my life… my life with this beautiful blue-eyed, curly-haired contradiction who made waking up every morning a joy. And who made going to bed every night an exciting adventure of the senses and a workout for my heart, both physically and metaphysically.

.

_AN: Special thanks to several medical professionals for their help not only with the medical terms and procedures but also in crafting the personalities of the doctors and nurse. In all honesty, though, I am taking a wee bit of poetic license with Carlos' amnesia. The song is _'Something in the Way She Moves'_ by James Taylor._


	45. Chapter 45 A Family Affair

**Chapter 45 – A Family Affair**

_Other things may change us, but we start and end with family._

Carlos' POV

I was standing outside a compact three-bedroom ranch-style house that looked like all the other houses on the block. But this was the one my daughter lived in. _My daughter!_ I still couldn't wrap my brain around the fact that I had a teenaged daughter.

I didn't know whether to thank my former walled-off self for the fact that he hadn't developed much of a relationship with her, so it wasn't like I'd lost too many memories of us together, or be angry with him for ignoring his own flesh and blood for so long. Either way, here I was, about to meet my daughter for the first time, at least the first time I could remember.

I had no idea what to expect. I knew nothing about teenaged girls. That's why having Stephanie along with me was so important. She would be there to break the ice and smooth over the rough periods. I was positive both Julie and I would be leaning on Steph a lot today.

Stephanie slipped her hand in mine as we stood waiting for someone to answer the doorbell. When the front door opened, there were two grinning children vying for the top dog position to greet us. Their grins disappeared and their eyes widened as their gaze traveled up my body to rest on my face. I was getting used to that look of awe and fear from children and unfortunately, some women and even some men.

"Is your mother here?" I asked the children, who hadn't made a peep yet, but had just continued to stare at me. At the sound of my voice both kids turned and ran down the hall yelling at the top of their lungs, "_Mom_."

Stephanie giggled beside me and then tried unsuccessfully to stifle her merriment when she saw my frown. We obviously had different ideas of what was appropriate behavior for children.

A woman appeared in the hallway and looked toward the open front door. She was about Steph's age and height, but a little heavier, attractive with dark hair and dark eyes. She moved toward us wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. According to a file photo I'd found in my Trenton office, this was Rachel Martine, my ex-wife. She hadn't been very friendly over the phone when I called last week, so I didn't know what to expect from her now that we were meeting face to face.

"Carlos, you're early. Good morning, Stephanie. It's nice to see you again. Julie was so excited when she heard you'd be coming with Carlos."

Rachel held her hand out to Steph and they continued talking about Julie as they moved into the house. Just before Rachel followed Steph into the living room, she leaned her head back into the hallway and motioned me in. "Shut the door," she ordered and then disappeared. The tone of her voice and her body language made it apparent she was not pleased with me.

I stepped into the house and closed the door behind me. As I walked down the hall, Julie came out of another room. She took my breath away. I could see Rachel in her, but there was also a lot of me in her. Her skin tone was a shade lighter than mine and her large brown eyes were wide set and framed by long black lashes. She had my full mouth and straight nose and long silky brown hair. She was beautiful!

My first instinct was to go to her and pull her into my arms; feel my daughter's heart beating against mine. Instead, I stood rooted to the floor, my face as blank as a school blackboard during summer vacation. She stared at me for what seemed like an eternity and then dropped her gaze as her mother called to her. She hurried into the living room and I slowly followed. Stephanie was sitting on the couch and Rachel was perched on the edge of an overstuffed chair. Julie flung herself down next to Steph accepting her warm hug. I silently berated myself for not embracing my daughter. Not a good way to start off the visit.

I sat on the other side of the couch and put my full attention on Julie. "You've become quite a young lady, Julie," I heard myself saying, cringing inside. I was blowing this left and right. How could I be so inept at talking to my own child?

Julie cut her eyes to me and as quickly looked away, saying nothing and appearing as bored as could be. Rachel looked at me oddly before she stood and asked, "Can I get you a cold drink? Julie, help me in the kitchen." Julie sighed loudly as if the world was beating her down, but followed her mother, leaving Steph and I alone.

Steph slid over next to me and hissed, "_Quite the young lady_? Carlos, she's a _thirteen year-old girl_. Just relax and speak normally to her."

I felt like rolling my eyes. _Relax?_ I was actually afraid my own daughter would reject me. I was beginning to understand why Ranger had kept his distance. This was frickin' hard. It was a sad state of affairs as I realized I'd rather face a firing squad than the ire of my teenaged daughter.

Rachel and Julie returned with glasses of lemonade. Rachel sat once again in her chair and Julie plopped herself on the other side of Steph, refusing to even look at me.

"So, where are you all going today?" Rachel asked, looking at Steph and me inquisitively.

I cleared my throat. "I thought we'd take a run out to Jungle Island."

"What the f…" Julie began, until her mother cried out, "JULIE!"

Rachel was glaring at her daughter and the sullen look on Julie's face spoke volumes.

Whatever Julie had been about to say, it didn't seem like she was thrilled with my plans for the day. I added, "We can do anything you'd like. Is there some place you enjoy going to or something new you've wanted to try? Stephanie and I are up for anything."

Steph's eyebrows raised as she heard me offer to do _anything_ my daughter would enjoy doing. Flashing through my mind were frightening visions of me sitting in a beauty salon getting my nails painted some atrocious shade of purple or, _Dios_, shopping for training bras at the mall. If she were a boy, I'd suggest paintball or laser tag, but what did little girls like to do?

Julie finally spoke, her face as blank as mine. "Jungle Island is fine. Can we go now?" she asked, her voice not saying what her face did – _'and get this horrible day over with?'_

As we got up to leave, Steph inquired about Julie's brother and sister. Rachel smiled and informed us they were too intimidated by me to come out. As Steph was fond of saying, '_sheesh_.'

I followed Steph and Julie down the hall until Rachel grabbed my arm. She motioned me back into the living room. I called out to Steph, "I'll be there in a minute." Steph turned around and gave me a long look before nodding and joining Julie.

When I entered the living room, Rachel was standing by the front window watching Julie and Steph in the driveway as they leaned against the SUV I'd borrowed from the Miami RangeMan office. Her back was to me, her arms tightly hugging herself. When she spoke, her voice was low and filled with sadness.

"She's been _so angry_, so confused. Ever since we attended your 'funeral,' she's been rebellious and disrespectful. It seemed to get a little better when we heard you'd been found alive, but when you didn't come home, she picked right back up. She started talking back to me and then to Ron, and then she started getting into fights at school."

Rachel swung around and shook her head at me. "It's hard to believe how little time you've spent with her and yet you still have such incredible influence over her."

"I had no idea," I said. "I want to spend more time with her, but if you think it will make matters worse…"

"A part of me wants to tell you never to see her again. After what happened three years ago, I panic whenever she's a few minutes late coming home from school. I'm talking about that horrible sick man who kidnapped her because of you." She stared at me waiting for some response.

"I don't remember that time, but Stephanie has told me about it. I'm sorry, Rachel. I'm sorry that because of me our daughter's life was put in danger. I don't know what else I can say… or do."

Rachel continued to stare at me, shaking her head slightly. "The time you spent with her after the kidnapping – your phone calls, emails and visits – were wonderful and she blossomed at the attention you gave her. But when she thought you were dead… and now with your amnesia… I don't think she can take much more."

"Tell me what I can do. How do I help?"

"Ron may be her dad, but _you_ are her father. She loves you. She needs a _real relationship_ with you. Can you do that?" She looked at me with such doubt, I was taken aback. My dislike for my former self intensified.

"Yes. I want that, too." I had a goal. Now I needed a plan. "What about today? How do I handle today with her?"

Rachel sighed. "Just be there for her. If she's rude or disrespectful, don't cut her too much slack. I don't know if she'll try anything with you, but just be her father, not her friend."

That was sound advice. "Thank you, Rachel, for confiding in me. I want to be a good father to Julie. I want what's best for our daughter. Please, call me if you ever need anything or just need to talk." Reaching out to my ex-wife felt odd, but we shared a daughter and if she was in trouble I needed to step up to the plate.

We went out to the driveway and found Julie in the back seat. I knew Steph had planned to make Julie sit up front with me, but I was relieved at not having the burden of maintaining the conversation. Rachel leaned in to give Julie a kiss and then held out her hand, palm up.

"Aw, Mom," Julie whined.

Rachel insisted, "You'll survive a few hours without texting your friends." Reluctantly, Julie pulled her hand out from the purse she had slung over her shoulder and laid a pink cell phone in her mother's open palm.

"Good luck," Rachel said to me as we buckled up. She waved once and then went back into the house.

I drove the three of us out to Jungle Island. It was the first time Stephanie had been to Miami and Julie gave her a running commentary on the sights as we passed by them. I noticed if I said anything Julie stopped talking, so I concentrated on driving and listened to Julie and Steph prattle on about all sorts of things. I tried to make sense out of some of their topics, but they might as well have been speaking a foreign language. It was nice, though, to see the woman I loved so comfortable with my daughter. It almost felt like we were a family.

Stephanie perked up the closer we got to the ocean and when we drove across the narrow highway to Jungle Island both Steph and Julie leaned forward and gazed out over the water. The park we were going to was well marked and I found a parking space right near the front gate. Steph called it my parking 'carma,' which got a chuckle from Julie. It was nice to hear her laugh.

After I paid for our tickets, we went through the gates and found ourselves in front of what looked like a visitor and souvenir center. I looked over the site map the ticket taker gave me and asked Julie what she wanted to see first. Both girls leaned over my arms and looked at the map. I had no idea what attracted their attention, but they simultaneously pointed to the left path lined with 'jungle' vegetation.

I held out my elbows and to my immense satisfaction, each of 'my girls' put an arm through mine and off we went. It was nice while it lasted, but they both deserted me at the first exhibit. I guess I couldn't compete with a liger – that's a cross between a lion and a tiger. I spent the next hour following them as they moved from exhibit to exhibit, chattering as loudly as some of the animals on display. We arrived at a small outdoor amphitheater just as the tropical bird show began, so we sat through that. The girls seemed to enjoy the antics and tricks performed by the various jewel-toned parrots and the running banter of the wildlife handler.

So far, the visit was going well. Julie was laughing and talking, all with Stephanie, but it also meant I barely had to speak a word, which was fine by me. By quietly listening to their conversations, I found out quite a bit about my daughter, her likes and dislikes and what was going on in her life. She had a crush on a boy named Adam. I'd have to have this 'Adam' checked out.

After the bird show, the girls pulled me to the food booths and I found myself smiling at their choices. Steph got her usual cheeseburger and fries, but Julie opted for a grilled chicken sandwich with tomato and lettuce, the healthiest option available. I know I had no right, but I was proud of my daughter and pleased to see we shared more than our physical appearance.

As we were finishing up lunch, I noticed that Julie kept darting glances at me, but she wouldn't make eye contact. We hadn't talked at all about the fact that she had attended my 'funeral' or that I had amnesia. Since I knew both events were sore points with her, I figured now was as good a time as any to get things out in the open.

"Julie, I know it's been a long time since we were together and a lot has happened since then. Your mother said you and she have talked about where I've been and why I didn't contact you for over a year. But you probably still have some questions. I'm here now if you want to talk about any of it with me."

I felt Steph go still next to me. Julie put her drink back on the table and her hands in her lap. She kept her eyes down and shook her head.

"I think we should talk about it. It had to be a confusing time for you. It certainly was for me," I said, giving her a little grin, trying for a light tone.

She was silent for awhile and then she looked directly at me and stated, "So, you don't remember me at all." She said it as fact, not as a question.

I inhaled deeply through my nose once before I spoke, "I don't remember anything that happened in my life before I was injured last year."

"You don't remember when I was born or rocking me to sleep when I was a baby? Mom said you were there in the beginning and you were the only one who could get me to stop crying. You don't remember any of it, do you?"

I shook my head no.

"And Chuck. Do you remember him?" She looked hard at me.

Again, I shook my head no.

Steph leaned forward and explained, "Chuck was Julie's name for Edward Scrog, the man who kidnapped her."

I nodded and took a deep breath to control my anger at the mere thought of someone threatening my daughter. "I don't remember that, but Stephanie has told me about it and I'm sorry you had to go through that."

"_Whatever_," Julie said, both her posture and tone screaming bored indifference, but the look in her eyes belied all that.

Then she frowned and a flash of anger shot across her face. "_I'm not sorry!_ If it hadn't been for that psycho, I never would have gotten to know you. It wasn't until after… when he took me… and he shot you… and I… I… well, that was when you finally started calling and coming to visit me more. If that's what it takes, then I'm glad it happened." This was all said in a loud, angry voice. Julie folded her arms across her chest, a sullen expression on her face.

Whoa! This was one pissed off child. And it was me she was pissed at. If it was possible to take Ranger to the mats for hurting his own daughter this much, _my daughter…_

She wasn't finished yet. She was seething inside, but contained it well. She was reacting more like an adult than a child. No arm waving, no screaming, just angry words in a hurting voice. She turned her angry glare on me. "But then, just as we were getting close, _you died_. Well, everyone _thought_ you were dead. I went to your funeral and watched them bury your casket. _That was a lot of fun!_ And now you don't remember me… or any of it."

She stopped her rant and took a deep breath. Her eyes were filling with tears. She stood up and took a step away from the table and then turned back to face me. Her face was contorted in pain and there was such bitterness in her voice.

"Why are you here now? I didn't mean anything to you before when you _could_ remember me. I must mean even less to you now."

It was as if a sheaf of knives sliced through my heart. "NO!" I said, a little too forcefully, standing up and moving toward her. She stood her ground, but flinched at the tone of my voice.

Softening it, I continued, "That's not true. I was surprised to learn I had a daughter, but I was happy about it. When I learned how little time I'd spent with you before… I was mad at myself. I still am."

We both stood there, facing each other, me aching to hold her, she just aching.

"And now… well, let's just say the past year since I lost my memory, I've changed. I'm not the same man I was before. Maybe I can be a better father to you without the memories."

She stood there shaking her head, tears dripping down her cheeks. "_Don't say that_. I need you to remember me, _all of me_. You only have a few memories of me and I need you to remember them all. Is that so much to ask?" Her voice was breaking with emotion. My chest felt tight like someone was squeezing me.

She choked out, "I want Ranger back. _I want my father…_"

She started sobbing then, like the little girl she still was. I gathered her up in my arms and held her tightly to me. I could feel my eyes stinging and, for once, I let the emotion wash over me. It hurt like hell. _Damn!_ This was the worst kind of torture. My daughter was in pain and it was my fault.

I felt helpless, holding her as she cried and shook in my arms. I cut my eyes to Stephanie and saw the tears spilling down her cheeks. She rushed over and wrapped her arms around both of us and we all stood there in a tight bundle, oblivious to the world continuing on around us.

After a while, Julie squirmed and both Steph and I loosened our hold. Stephanie led Julie back to the table and sat down with her. "Julie, there's something we didn't tell you." Steph looked over at me, a wistful smile on her face. "Your father is going to have a medical procedure done on Monday. There's a good chance he will get his memory back after it's done."

I stepped forward. "Steph… shouldn't you and I talk about this… before we tell Julie?" Dios, I loved this woman.

She looked up at me with that enigmatic smile again. "It's okay. Julie's old enough to hear this."

"That wasn't what I meant," I said.

"It's the right thing to do," she replied.

"Are you sure?" I asked, knowing how much this was costing her.

Julie was twisting her head back and forth as we talked. She focused on me, "Are you really going to do this? You'll get your memory back?" She sounded doubtful. "What are you having done?"

I sat down next to Julie and took her hand in mine. I looked at Steph once again. She smiled and nodded. Like I said, she was one strong woman.

I began, "I saw a doctor this week, in Jacksonville. He ran some tests and found a piece of metal in my head. You know I was injured in an explosion and when I woke up I couldn't remember who I was." Julie nodded. "Well, I was hit in the head with this piece of metal during the explosion and it's the reason I can't remember anything. The doctor said he can take it out and there's a chance, after my head heals, that I'll be able to remember things again. I may not get all my memories back, but he thinks most of them will return."

Julie's face was so open, so innocent. I could see the anger and hurt melting away and Julie's voice now sounded hopeful. "Really? That's great news. Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"I didn't want to get your hopes up." It was a little white lie; the truth would serve no purpose now. She didn't need to know the risks. But I couldn't sugarcoat it either. "There's no guarantee it will work."

"But the doctor thinks it will?" Julie asked, grasping at the proffered straw.

I nodded. "Yes."

The tightness in my chest went away when I saw a smile break out on Julie's tear-stained face. I hugged her to me and saw Stephanie's eyes filling with tears again. She was smiling, so I assumed they were what she called 'happy' tears. I would never understand women.

Julie shifted a little away from me and tried to smooth out her ruffled hair. "I must look like a mess. Can I go to the bathroom? It's just right over there?" She looked back and forth between us. "I'm old enough to go by myself." I nodded, watching each step she took until the restroom door closed.

I turned to Stephanie. "Are you sure you're okay with this?" I asked.

She didn't hesitate. "Yes. Of course, I'm still afraid, but you need to do everything possible to try and get your memory back… for all of us." She scooted a little closer and stared into my eyes. "I want you to get your memory back because your past is what made you… _you_."

She stroked my cheek with her hand and let her index finger trail across my lips. I lightly grabbed her hand and kissed her fingers. She continued, "I want you… I need you to remember… _us_. And things about us, things only we know, _special things_."

So… she still missed Ranger. And there were some things I wasn't doing or saying that she needed from me, needed from Ranger. _What were they?_

I must have betrayed my thoughts in my face because Steph's eyes widened. I had to watch that.

She rushed to reassure me. "But I love you just as you are now and _nothing will ever change that_. No matter what you choose, no matter how things turn out, for better or for worse, I will love you and stay with you. Don't ever doubt that."

And then her eyes dropped for a second before she looked back up at me, a tentative look on her face. "That is, if you'll still want me. If you get your memory back, you may not want me around anymore. I'm a lot of trouble. I regularly destroy cars and I seem to attract a lot of weirdos. You might remember just how much I cost you in the past and decide I'm not worth it."

I was speechless. I stared at this beautiful, crazy woman sitting next to me, a worried look on her face. My laughter started out as a chuckle, and then another chuckle, and soon I was laughing so hard, my eyes started to water. Only Stephanie Plum would say something so unexpected and so… right. I'd just needed to know she would love me no matter what.

I felt an unexpected slug to my arm and stopped my laughing abruptly. Steph's worried look had been replaced with an angry one. "_This_ _isn't funny_. This is serious business. They're going to cut open your brain and dig around in it with sharp instruments. And you're going to lose your beautiful hair, just when it was getting long again. There's _nothing funny_ about any of that." She continued to glare at me.

I reached out and caressed her cheek with my hand, trying unsuccessfully to stifle my amusement. "You never disappoint, you always make me laugh. How could I ever _not_ want you around? Things would be incredibly boring without you in my life." I chucked her under her chin. "So, how about we agree that we're both in this for the long haul? For better or for worse." I tucked a stray curl behind her ear and then stuck out my hand.

She looked down at it, a puzzled look on her face. And then she gave me a little grin and put her hand in mine. She held it firmly and we both gave it one big shake. I couldn't help it – my face broke out into a huge smile. The effect it had on Steph was instantaneous. She flung her arms around my neck and I pulled her onto my lap as our lips met. The next few minutes were nearly x-rated. I hoped our PDA didn't give any of the park visitors a heart attack.

We settled down and Steph moved off my lap, but kept her arms clasped around my torso. I pulled out my phone and looked at her smiling face. Her lips were a little swollen from the hard kisses I'd rained down on her. I couldn't resist one more and it was the sweetest one of all.

"So, surgery on Monday… agreed?" I said. She gave me a tiny head nod and her eyes filled with tears. "Steph?" I asked, wondering about the ready tears.

"Agreed," she said. "I love you."

"Te amo, mi corazón dulce." I kissed her again and wiped away a tear that finally escaped her eyes. I got a tremulous smile for my efforts.

"Make the call." She was nodding her head in vigorous up and down movements.

I called the Clinic and confirmed a surgery time for Monday morning. I was advised to expect an overnight stay, but would probably be released sometime on Tuesday.

Julie had snuck up on us as I was making the call. I mentally kicked myself for not being more aware of where my daughter was at all times. I was a father, after all. It was my responsibility to keep her safe. I had a lot to get used to. I pulled her down next to me and kissed the top of her head and was rewarded with a big grin.

I needed to clear the air. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when you were growing up." Julie's eyes got big. She clearly wasn't expecting an apology. "I promise to be around a lot more from now on out. And if your mom will let you, I hope you'll be able to come and visit Steph and me in Trenton over the summer break."

"I'd like that," she said, her voice getting excited. "I'm old enough to fly on a plane by myself."

I smiled. Not hardly! "Well, I think it'd be better if I came down and picked you up. Will that be okay?" She was all smiles.

We left the park and drove back into Miami. Julie leaned forward as far as the seatbelt would let her and asked, "It's still early. Can we visit the arcade? There's this _wicked_ new dance game that's awesome!"

I couldn't believe I was going to be gyrating and jumping around on a mat in public to some teeny bopper music, but I couldn't say no, not today, not to my daughter. I nodded and Julie let out a whoop. Steph started laughing and I think she was laughing at me.

Now, this felt _exactly_ like a family!

**TBC**


	46. Chapter 46 Role Reversal

**Chapter 46 – Role Reversal**

_I am tired. My arm aches. My head boils. My feet are cold. _

_But I am not aware of any weakness. ~ Zane Grey_

Stephanie's POV

I kept a smile on my face until those dreaded double doors swallowed Carlos up again. This time he wouldn't come back out until they cut open his head and messed with his brain. _Don't go there, Steph. You'll drive yourself crazy if you think about what might happen._

I was so torn about what to pray for. When he left over a year ago, all I wanted was for Ranger to come back to me and let me into his life, in whatever capacity he was comfortable with. Even if he kept a part of him closed to me, the part he did let me see would have been enough. But now, after several weeks of loving and being loved by the man who called himself Marc Pardo, or more recently Carlos Mañoso, and having him open up so completely to me, I don't know.

If he gets his memories back after this surgery and decides he doesn't want or can't have a real relationship with me, I'll be absolutely devastated. Could I now settle for just a physical relationship, if that's all he is capable of?

What if he goes through the surgery and never remembers anything? Will I be able to accept that the Ranger I fell in love with is truly gone? That we'll never share what made each of us fall in love with the other? That I'll never hear him call me _Babe_ ever again?

Is it really possible that Carlos will remember his past as Ranger and still be willing and able to continue to grow the relationship we are just starting to build? _Omigod_, to have both Ranger and Carlos together, in the same body, melded into one perfect man. Well, not exactly perfect, but as perfect as one man could ever be.

But if he remembers ALL of his past, the terrible things he's been through, the atrocities he's witnessed and, if I'm honest with myself, the atrocities he has committed in the fight for right, for freedom… to protect others, will he allow himself some personal happiness? Those horrible memories are the things that compelled Ranger to hold himself aloof, to isolate himself, to not allow any one to get close to him.

I don't know why, but somewhere along the way I got the impression Ranger felt he might do me harm by letting me in, by loving me. That he had a deep dark secret, some terrible flaw. That I was better off loving someone else and that's why he sent me back to Morelli. He didn't fear all forms of commitment,_ like I seem to_, but Ranger decided a long time go that committing to another person was not in the cards for him.

Is the only reason Carlos lets me in now is because he can't remember some horrible memory, but if he could remember…?

What if his fear for me or for Julie overwhelms him and he decides he can't risk the danger of another Edward Scrog or someone from his past using us to get back at him, or to seek revenge for something he did to them in the past?

_Jeez!_ I was back to agonizing over _what ifs_. Stop thinking so much, Steph.

What time was it? I looked for a clock. _Crap!_ It'd only been a half hour since the nurse had taken Carlos into the Clinic's 'inner sanctum,' a place I wasn't allowed. I was _not_ going to survive this. I needed a donut. No, a piece of cake, a big honking piece of cake topped with lots of sugary frosting.

Suddenly, my nose perked up. I could smell cake. I followed my nose around a corner and there, perched on the counter of the empty nurse's station was a half eaten sheet cake. It was chocolate with white frosting and had big purple sugar flowers. Both ends of the large cake had been cut into. As I got closer I could read the words written in purple icing, "…GRATULATIO ELLY…" I bet Kelly, or maybe it was Nelly, wouldn't mind if I helped myself to a little bit of her celebratory cake.

There were balloons and paper plates and napkins nearby as well as plastic knives and forks, so I cut off a piece and sucked it up faster than a rock star snorting coke through a dollar bill. I looked around. No one was paying any attention to me so I took another piece and scooted down the hall to eat it a little more leisurely. Who was I kidding? I never ate cake slowly.

After devouring four pieces, I slid down into one of the chairs in the waiting room, my head cradled along the soft cushion of the chair back. The sugar coursed through my trembling body and I actually mellowed out, and was not as tense or upset. Damn, I was a full-fledged cake addict. I freely admitted it. I guess there were worse things to be addicted to than cake, though.

I was feeling a little more positive about Carlos' surgery now. Cake always improved my mood.

If Carlos didn't regain his memories, I could live with that. Our relationship was wonderful and close. It was a miracle that we even found our way back to each other. What we had was unshakeable.

And if Ranger came back full force, I believe he would still want me in his life. What he went through this past year had to have changed him, shown him a different possibility for his life. And there was no denying his love for me. Our connection would survive the resurgence of Ranger's terrible memories. I was sure of it.

I'd been sitting in the waiting room by myself for a while when a woman approached me carrying two plates loaded down with chocolate cake. She wore a colorful scarf around her head and I noticed she didn't have any eyebrows.

"Hi, I'm Kelly. I work as a patient advocate here at the Mayo Clinic. You look like you could use some cheering up. The staff threw me a party today to celebrate my _kicking cancer in the ass_." She gave me a wicked smile and held out one of the plates to me. "Share a piece of cake with me? I don't like to eat alone."

I laughed out loud, but didn't tell her I'd already scarfed down more than my share of her ass-kicking cake. As I took the plate she offered, I told her, "Thanks, I never turn down cake. Congratulations, Kelly, beating cancer is definitely something worth celebrating. I'm waiting for my… my friend to get out of surgery, brain surgery. It's been a little nerve-racking. I'm nervous about the operation, but I'm even more worried about what will happen afterwards."

Kelly stayed with me for the next hour telling me about her fight against breast cancer and also about some of the Clinic's amnesia patients who had amazing recovery stories. She told me that Dr. Chun was the best neurosurgeon on the east coast and that my 'friend' was in excellent hands. Our talk took my mind off my problems and made me feel a lot better. Kelly was good at her job.

Before I knew it, Dr. Chun was standing in front of me telling how well the surgery went and that I could go in and be with Carlos as he woke up from the anesthesia. I thanked Kelly for the cake and her support and followed Dr. Chun through the double doors. Yippee, I was now 'authorized' personnel!

The closer we got to the recovery room the faster my breathing got. By the time I approached Carlos' bed, I was practically hyperventilating. My first view of him nearly did me in. He was lying so still, his head swathed in bandages, and he had IV tubes trailing out of both arms. A nurse caught me before my legs buckled out from under me and she helped me into the chair next to his bed.

Once I had something solid under my butt, I focused on the unconscious man in front of me. He was pale, deathly still and it seemed he was barely breathing. Carlos normally had a rich mocha latte hue to his face, but now the color of his cheeks looked more like weak English tea diluted with lots of milk. The white bandages covering his skull just emphasized his pallor. When I tried to slip my hand into his, it was so limp and cold I nearly cried. This was not a man who ever looked weak, not even in his sleep, but now he resembled a Latin ragdoll. Not a good look for him.

I needed him to open his eyes. I needed to know there was life in him._ Omigod_, what if he opened his eyes and just stared blankly at me, not knowing who I was? I could hear his first words now, "Do I know you?" My heart started pounding.

_Dear God, I'm sorry I ever complained about him forgetting his special name for me. Please, just let him remember me! _

I laid my head down on his chest and could feel his heart beating. The longer I nestled against him, the better I felt. When he woke up I needed to be strong and positive, not teary-eyed and fearful. I was such a wuss! This felt like an unreal role reversal. Normally it was Ranger being strong for me. Could I pull this off?

All of a sudden, I heard a sound, like a puff of air and I swear I heard the softest whisper of _Babe_, but I couldn't be sure. I had kept my ear plastered to his chest so I could hear his heart beating and all sound was muffled. Did I just want it so bad that I imagined it?

I bolted upright and stared at his face, waiting. His chest swelled as he took in a deep breath and his eyes fluttered but didn't open. I was afraid to even blink fearing I might miss it when he finally woke up.

After several minutes and no change, I leaned over and touched my lips to his ear and whispered, "Carrrrlos," trilling the R the way he'd instructed me. Nothing. I thought I'd take a chance.

I sat on the edge of his bed and put my lips close to his ear again. Pitching my voice lower and huskier, I crooned, "Carlos, you know what I'd like to do to you right now? I'd like to climb in bed next to you and run my hands all over your firm pecs and your rock hard abs. Then I'd flick my fingernails over your nipples until they tightened up."

I couldn't believe I was doing this, but no one was near us, no one could hear. I grinned and continued what I thought was _sexy_ talk. "After that, I'd let my fingers do the walking and follow that little trail of soft silky hair you have on your stomach, the one that leads past your belly button straight down to your magnificently large, hard…" and then I was positive he stirred.

I shot up and stared at him. His eyes were still closed, but a slow grin creased his face and his lips moved. His voice was hoarse and I had a difficult time making out the words, but it sounded like he said, "_Playing with fire_." And then his eyes opened.

Through my tears, I smiled and said, "Hi." I know, not very profound.

We gazed at each other like we were in a corny chick flick. Just to see his gorgeous chocolate brown eyes again filled me with relief. It was such a sweet moment I wanted it to last forever. Then I felt his hand slide up my butt and squeeze my right cheek. I let out a shriek. He just grinned. So much for romance!

His next word surprised me. "Water," he croaked. Turns out that tube doctors put down your throat to pipe in oxygen during surgery leaves you with a terrible sore throat. I looked around for a nurse and frantically waved my arm. I got the attention of a young woman in scrubs and she brought over a small plastic cup with a bent straw. She obviously knew her stuff and was prepared.

"I bet you'd like some of this," she said to Carlos and when he nodded, she held the straw to his lips and advised him to take just a few small sips at first. And then she asked him what I thought were strange questions, but it quickly became clear she was trying to determine how lucid he was.

The nurse asked, "Can you tell me your name?"

It was a little hard to understand him. His voice was incredibly hoarse and low, but you could still make out his response, "Carlos Mañoso."

She then asked him, "What state are you in?"

Carlos responded with what sounded like, "State of horny."

I hid my giggles behind my hand, and I saw the nurse suppress a lopsided grin. She shook her head a little and plunged on with the next question. After all, he did answer truthfully.

"Who's the current President of the United States?" she asked.

His voice came out a little clearer and louder this time as he spat out, "Unfortunately, Mr. Mission **Un**-Accomplished."

That answer rated a snort from the nurse and from me. She asked a few more questions and Carlos answered all correctly and directly, if a bit hoarsely.

Dr. Chun appeared at the foot of the bed. The nurse stepped back and Dr. Chun moved to his bedside. "How do you feel?" he asked.

Carlos replied, "Fine." Of course, he wouldn't admit it if he felt lousy.

"Any pain?"

Carlos shook his head and immediately closed his eyes. If it had been any one else, I would have said he winced.

Dr. Chun motioned to the nurse and instructed her to add something to his IV drip.

"Tell me something about your childhood, Carlos."

Carlos looked like he was trying hard to remember, but he glanced up at the doctor and uttered, "Can't."

"What about your Army days?"

"No."

"That's okay. I didn't expect you to be able to remember anything yet. It'll probably take weeks, maybe even months for the connections to regrow. But when you start to remember things, call me and let me know. Get some rest and I'll check in on you later today." I noticed the doctor said 'when' not 'if' he started to remember.

The doctor came to the end of the bed and motioned me toward him. "Ms. Plum, the surgery went as expected. There were no complications. You can stay with him a while longer, but then we need to get him to his room and let him sleep. I just instructed the nurse to give him a sedative. He'd fight going to sleep otherwise. He's an incredibly strong-willed man."

"You don't know the half of it," I replied.

He turned to go and then stopped. "I thought you might want to have this." He pulled a small plastic vial from his pocket and held it out to me. I accepted it and peered into the clear container. The memory-stealing fragment!

I wanted to throw it in the ocean, but I stuck it in my pocket and said, "Thank you, Dr. Chun. And thank you for bringing Carlos through this. I'm just glad he made it through the surgery without any problems."

Both the doctor and the nurse left, but not before the nurse brought me another cup filled with ice chips. She informed me that letting the ice melt in his mouth would help with the hoarseness. She closed the curtain around us, giving us some semblance of privacy.

I went back to my chair and sat next to the bed. Carlos held out his hand and I took it. His hand was warm and strong, putting my earlier fears to rest. Even his skin color had deepened. Now, he just had to get his deep resonant voice back.

"Ice chips?" I asked. He nodded. He was reluctant to release my hand, but I needed both to get the job done. I fed him a spoonful of ice. It felt funny catering to him this way and him allowing me to care for him. I kind of liked it for a change.

I fed him nearly half a cup before he shook his head. I watched as he swallowed and then felt his throat. I adjusted the sheet that covered him and he grabbed my hand and held it against his chest.

"How are you doing?" he asked, his voice better, but not quite back to normal.

"I'm okay, now that you're awake." This was the man I knew, asking about me when he was the one lying in bed. I turned the question back at him, "How do you really feel?"

"A little odd, but it's probably just the anesthesia wearing off." He reached up to my face, keeping hold of my hand, and rubbed my chin. "Cake?" he inquired.

I blushed thirteen shades of red and furiously wiped my mouth and chin and dusted crumbs off my blouse. _Jeez! _"It was one of the staff's celebration cake and I couldn't be rude," I told him. He just gave a little snort and squeezed my hand. His eyelids were at half-mast and I knew he needed to sleep.

"I'm going to go back to the hotel room now and let you get some rest," I said.

"Not yet," he insisted. "Lay next to me."

I blushed again. "I can't."

And then he said the one word I couldn't resist. "Please."

Sighing, I gingerly shifted from the chair to the bed and swung my legs up next to his. He lifted his arm and I slipped under it, laying my head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around me and I could finally feel the tension of the day flooding out of my body. Everything was going to be alright.

In a quiet voice, he said, "In case you were wondering, I still love you… Illiana."

My heart stopped. I rose up and stared at him, my eyes as big as saucers, horrified and confused.

His blank face was on, but the twinkle in his eye gave him away. I made a fist and raised it over his stomach, but he croaked out, "You wouldn't hit a sick man?" He gave a couple of obviously fake coughs, but I slugged him anyway. It was just a light tap, but he gave me the satisfaction of expelling a deep '_Oooomph!_'

"Talk about _playing with fire_," I told him hotly. "Don't ever joke about that again."

He pulled me back down and kissed the top of my head, burying his face in my hair and murmured, "Te amo, Estefania. Tu eres mi vida, mi alma. Siempre y para siempre." [_I love you, Stephanie. You are my life, my soul. Always and forever_.]

I raised my head to ask him to translate, but he didn't give me a chance; he kissed me instead. Nothing fiery and passionate, but a loving heartfelt buss.

As we broke apart, Carlos said, "I love you, Stephanie Plum."

And then he fell asleep.

. . .

The Tuesday evening flight back to Trenton was long, too long, but Tank was waiting for us at the airport. We didn't talk much on the way to RangeMan and Carlos didn't ask for a report, which told Tank and me that he was still tired and preoccupied with other thoughts. Carlos refused any help and carried our bags, but he didn't refuse the elevator to the seventh floor. Of course, he had to unlock the door to the apartment himself.

He didn't fight me when I led him straight into the bedroom. I turned down the covers and he let me remove his clothes, though I think he figured it was part of my foreplay. I took off all my clothes except for my t-shirt and panties and crawled in next to him. He pulled me against his chest and within seconds he was out for the count.

I stayed in bed for the next hour or so and watched him sleep. Before he'd left the Clinic, they'd replaced his head bandage with a small square of gauze taped over the incision point. His entire head was shaved. I had a couple pages of care instructions in my handbag that I'd turn over to Bobby Brown in the morning.

My bladder started to complain, so I got out of bed and used the bathroom. Then I wandered out to the kitchen and checked on Rex. Ella had taken good care of him. His cage was spotless and his water and food dish were full.

"You're living on Easy Street, Rex. We both are. And I'm happy to be able to tell you to get used to it. This is home now. I'm not sure exactly what the future will look like yet, but Carlos and I are… what are we? I guess we're a couple. A couple of what, you ask? That's a good question, my furry little companion. I'll let you know when I find out."

Rex ignored me as he sat in his food dish stuffing sunflower seeds into his cheek pouches. I tapped on the glass and he stopped and stared up at me, his whiskers quivering over his fat little cheeks.

"I'm on pins and needles, Rex. I keep sneaking glances at Carlos, wondering if he's remembered anything from his past yet. I've got to stop doing that. It'll only drive me crazy and frustrate him. Will he tell me if he starts to get his memories back? It'd be just like Ranger to keep it to himself." I frowned and Rex scurried into his soup can.

I went over to the couch and leafed through a couple of magazines I'd left before we went to Florida. Bored, I took a shower and then joined a deeply slumbering Carlos in bed.

All in all, I decided that being bored for now was a good thing. It meant Carlos was okay and he loved me. I'd have my work cut out for me trying to keep him quiet the next few days so he could rest and heal, but sex was on the list of permitted activities. We wouldn't be having any balls to the walls sex, but it was still Ranger sex. The next few days promised to very enjoyable.

_AN: Thanks to BearCatsRock (this chapter is for you) and the Trashy Books gang for the humorous ideas about the nurse's lucidity questions. This chapter needed a few laughs._


	47. Chapter 47 Unfinished Business

**Chapter 47 – Unfinished Business**

_Nothing which has entered into our experience is ever lost._

Stephanie's POV

We made it through Thursday afternoon before Carlos simply HAD to check in on business. He slipped out the apartment door when I was in the bathroom.

I found him on the fifth floor hovering over Hal and Lester in the control room. I stood back and watched him for a minute as Carlos stared at the multiple screens that filled the wall. He reached up and ran his hand over his bare head. His hair was just starting to grow back and it probably itched like the devil. I joined him.

"This floor is off limits to you until Monday, Señor Mañoso," I chastised my impatient Cuban lover. Slipping my arm through his, I tried to steer him toward the elevator, but he was having none of it.

"Carlos, please…" I implored.

He gave me an expressionless 'look,' and turned back to stare at the monitors. When he did speak, it was a single word, a name, McCready. It meant nothing to me, but Lester immediately brought up a new screen. I could see the entryway into a brick building. The sign over the door read, 'McCready & Sons Engineering.' Then a series of screens flashed by, each showing a different angle of the same building, focusing on doors, windows and the roof.

Carlos didn't turn his head but uttered to me, "New client." And then he barked out an order, "Add a camera to the rear entryway." Lester gave one quick nod of acknowledgement.

"Now, can we go?" I tugged on his arm.

Carlos put his hand over mine and led me into his darkened office. Turning on the light, he moved over to his desk and sat down. "I need to check on something," he said. With a single keystroke his computer lit up and he leafed through the files in his inbox while he waited for a program to open. I gave out a loud complaining sigh and went to find Tank.

I found him in the gym talking to a new recruit, Chester something or other, who very nicely filled out the tank top and gym shorts he was wearing. He certainly looked like RangeMan material. Tank had seen me enter, but finished his instructions to the tall blond man before acknowledging my presence. The blond man stepped onto the treadmill and began his workout under the watchful eye of the big black man dressed all in black. After receiving a barely perceptible head nod from Tank, I crossed the gym and complained to him that Carlos was ignoring doctor's orders of complete rest for one week.

"You know as well as I do that Ranger follows no one's orders. Relax, I'll see to it that he stays in the office – no fieldwork." Tank leaned his shoulder into me, nearly knocking me over. "Besides, you need to get back to work yourself. Pax is impatient for you to wrap up the PD drug theft case."

"I'm worried about him, Tank. He seems preoccupied… and a bit distant."

He could see I was upset, so he gave me his best try at fixing it. "Worry is a useless emotion. Ranger just needs to be busy. I hate doing paperwork so I'll give him my inbox and bury him under reports. Let me handle Ranger. You handle your case."

And just like that, I was dismissed. I loved working for RangeMan, but sometimes the lack of satisfying conversation was a turnoff. Men, at least RangeMen, just didn't understand the art of gossiping and bitching. I went back across the hall and passed by Ranger's office. He was typing away on his keyboard and talking on the phone, happy as a clam. I trudged over to my cubicle and plopped down in my chair. I guess it was time for me to get back to work, too.

. . .

_AN: The following includes material of a sensitive sexual nature. If you are offended easily, skip over this part._

I pulled into the parking lot of the Trenton PD just as Joe Morelli was walking out the back door. I got out of my car and waved to him. He wasn't happy to see me.

"What are you doing here," he snarled, but he came over and leaned against my car. Unlike the guys at RangeMan, Joe didn't mind bitching.

"I could ask you the same thing. Aren't you on administrative leave?"

He shot me a dirty look and then relented. "Yeah. I came in to talk to the Chief. He told me to go home. I'm going frickin' crazy with nothing to do." His hands started waving round a little, emphasizing his frustration. "Please tell me you have something… anything that will clear me?"

I guess Ranger wasn't the only one going stir crazy under enforced leave. I leaned against my car door and looked over at Morelli. "Still working on it."

I couldn't tell him that Curt had been able to get pictures of Elena in a compromising position with another cop. A cop who'd been reprimanded in the past for drug use, and who'd been at each of the police departments the days they'd reported losing the drugs. Zero was working on that aspect, trying to dig up some direct evidence against the suspect officer.

"I do have a question for you, though. Do you know an Ana Parque?" I asked.

He straightened up when I mentioned Ana's name and the look he gave me wasn't a pleasant one. "How did you find out about Ana?" Joe demanded.

"That's not important," I said. Asking Joe about Ana was a shot in the dark. I hadn't expected him to actually know her and the fact that he was defensive about knowing her wasn't a good sign. "What was your relationship with her?"

Joe tossed his head back and expelled most of the air from his lungs, muttering under his breath. He _really_ didn't want to talk about her.

"I need to know, Joe. It's part of the case."

He stared at me awhile before finally answering. "We dated a couple of times, but it was before you and I got together." I was tempted to ask, 'Which time?'

"When was this?" I saw Joe roll his eyes. I clarified, "I don't care when you were banging her. Really. But the timing of it may be relevant to the case."

Another deep sigh from him. He didn't deny they'd slept together. "You and I weren't happening. It was after you left me standing half-naked in the middle of the street… when we were working together to find Kenny Mancuso. I was still hoping you'd come around, but in the meantime I had needs. I did what most cops do when they want to have a little fun and don't want anyone to know about it. I went out of town. I went to Newark to get a little drunk, let off a little steam and nail some tail."

"Cute, Joe, real cute. Was Ana Parque the tail you nailed?"

He nodded. "She was a cocktail waitress at one of the dives I frequented in Newark. Said she was working her way through grad school. She was good-looking, willing and great in bed. I continued to see her on and off for several months. And then I found out she was strung out on drugs. She'd kept it hidden from me, but I dropped by unexpectedly one night and caught her shooting up. I dumped her on the spot."

"Did you see her again any time after that?"

Joe shook his head. "I had no interest in her anymore. I can't stand junkies. But she kept calling me, begging me to come back, saying she couldn't live without me." He looked over at me. "That was about the time you'd moved into my guest room after your apartment exploded and, well, _you remember_… we started dating."

"I wouldn't exactly call what we did 'dating', but yeah, I remember." I pushed thoughts of that time of my life out of my mind.

I asked him another question, "Did you know Ana was Elena's younger sister?"

Joe's eyes' widened and then narrowed as he stared at me. "Can't be!" was all he said.

"It's true. And, hold on to your ball cap. She died of an overdose shortly after you stopped seeing her."

"Damn!" Joe looked shocked. "Damn! Poor girl! I had no idea." He turned away and then swung back around. "This whole thing with Elena isn't a coincidence, is it?"

"Doesn't look like it. I need to know how you met Elena."

Joe rubbed his hand over his chin, the rasp of his several days old beard against his palm audible. "It was at an after-hours party with some of the cops from the department. I guess one of the guys invited her. I was three sheets to the wind and she came on to me. Hell, I was a mess then. Still angry over you dumping me. Drinking hard." He rubbed his chin again. "I don't remember much about that night. I do remember she was aggressive and demanded to be on top. Told me she'd do all the work." A slight grin formed and then he shook his head. "I was so drunk I couldn't see straight. If she wanted to do all the work, I wasn't going to argue."

I guess Joe had changed. He always hated to let me be on top. I thought it was a control issue. Again, I shoved that thought out of my mind. "Was that the only time you two got together?"

He shook his head.

"Well?"

"I don't want to talk about it." He wouldn't meet my eyes.

"It's for the case. I need to know," I stated.

"You don't need to know _this_."

He looked so embarrassed I couldn't help teasing him. "What? Couldn't you get it up with her? Did her aggressiveness 'unman' you?"

I couldn't imagine anything 'unmanning' Morelli, but when he turned a brilliant shade of red I _had_ to pursue it.

"_You_ couldn't get it up? The Italian Stallion undone by a mere woman?"

He shot me an angry look. "I can get it up just fine. The problem was… so could Elena."

He couldn't be serious. "Don't tell me she's a man?" I joked, trying to imagine Joe, of all people, not being able to spot a transvestite.

"Something like that," he mumbled.

"Elena Benneau's a man?" I said, the shock raising my voice.

He shook his head and refused to look me in the eye.

"Then what? Tell me."

He closed his eyes and rolled his head from side to side like he was warming up for a race.

"Joe…"

He sighed again. "She's not exactly a man, but she's more than a woman," he said.

Puzzled, I stated, "That's a little too cryptic for me. What are you saying?"

And another sigh. "She's… she's got the genitals of both. There. I said it." Joe cut his eyes to me briefly and then looked away, hitting one fist into his other hand, over and over, obviously embarrassed.

Elena Benneau was an intersexual? Or to use the antiquated term, a hermaphrodite. _Sheesh!_ I didn't see that coming. Obviously, neither had Joe. I knew he'd worked Vice for many years and had seen lots and lots of unusual things, but when it came to his personal life, Joe was a pretty traditional and conservative man. That must have freaked him out. But if they had sex that first night, how could he have not known? I asked him that.

Now that the truth was out, he seemed relieved to talk about it with someone. "She wouldn't let me touch her… down there. She insisted the lights be off and she be on top. And, like I said, I was really drunk. But the second time, I was sober. Well, at least I wasn't falling down drunk. And I was determined to show her a good time. That's when I noticed she had a little more… down there… than I expected. She'd taped her penis… _Fuck!_ That just sounds so wrong… _her _penis! She had it taped over to the side. I freaked out. I got dressed and left. I could have handled it better, but so could she. She should have told me before we got to the bedroom. I mean, I'm not a prude, but… I needed some warning."

I kind of felt sorry for Joe, but even more so for Elena. Not for being intersexed, but for how most people must react to her. Hopefully, she had more understanding partners than Joe had been. After all, she'd been married. However, none of this excused her for framing Joe for a crime he didn't commit.

Now that I knew Joe had dated Ana just before she died and that Elena had sought him out, things started making more sense. The revenge theory jumped into first place as far as motive was concerned. Not revenge for dumping _her_, but for dumping her little sister. Maybe Ana had told Elena about Joe. Maybe Ana didn't _accidentally_ overdose. I still had a lot of unanswered questions.

I started tailing Elena full time.

Carlos' POV

The screen went dark on my computer for the fifth time. I'd been staring at the screen for so long the screen saver function turned on. I couldn't seem to concentrate on work. I was also getting flashes of light and headaches, a rare thing for me.

My mind kept returning to my near-fatal experience in the desert. Then my anger'd kick in. It seemed the anger was always there now, just under the surface. I even found myself being abrupt with Stephanie.

Up until recently, I'd been so focused on finding out who I was and then I was held at Fort Carson for two months. And the last month or so had been filled with reacquainting myself with Stephanie and easing back into my life here in New Jersey.

But now, I couldn't seem to get a certain coyote out of my mind. He'd left me to die! And he'd probably done that to hundreds of unsuspecting and desperate people. I just couldn't let that go. Nacho needed to be stopped. A trip to Mexico was in order.

I also wanted to payback certain kindnesses that people had shown to me when I was in desperate need of some kindness. After I was done 'paying back' Nacho in Mexico, I could stop off in Arizona and visit Terra. A little research on my part had uncovered her real name and I knew just how I wanted to return the favor. I'd made the necessary phone calls and everything was just waiting for me to show up. What I'd arranged for her didn't come close to the favor she gave me – she saved my life. But I knew she'd appreciate the little gift I had planned for her.

Then I'd fly up to San Francisco and check in on Illiana. I'd received regular reports from Geoff Haricko on the status of her legal case, but I wanted to see how she was holding up personally. I knew Pax had been flying out to San Francisco regularly, and that it wasn't all because of the case against her grandfather and his pharmaceutical company. She and I'd talked on the phone a few times and I was now an investor in her new company, but I wanted to see her in person and thank her for all she'd done for me. I also had something in the works for her uncle Juan and the entire Ye'kuana tribe. It was nice having the money to be able to do things for friends. I was really looking forward to this trip in more ways than one.

I wasn't getting much done here at RangeMan and neither Tank nor Stephanie would let me do any fieldwork yet. I needed some action and Mexico seemed to fit the bill.

Tonight, after dinner, I'd tell Steph that I had some unfinished business and would be gone for a few days. She wasn't going to like it, but it was something I needed to do and I needed to do it now.

. . .

_AN: **Warning** – The following contains a graphic violent scene._

I stepped off the plane in Puerto Peñasco into the searing morning heat. Customs was a long and sweaty process. The air conditioning in the small airport terminal was ineffective and practically nonexistent. I was relieved to climb into the cool interior of the SUV waiting for me curbside.

I greeted the driver and, in Spanish, asked, "Were you able to obtain the item I requested?"

The driver pulled away from the terminal and nodded. "Sí, Señor. It is in the duffel bag behind my seat."

I reached back and pulled the bag into my lap. I checked the weapon and slipped it into my waistband at the small of my back. "Bien. And the Jeep?"

"That is waiting for you at the location you specified."

"And the _jueputa_?"

The driver finally shot a glance my way. "That motherfucker is a slippery devil, but I was able to track him down. He is still in Puerto Peñasco, but he moved from the address I gave you yesterday."

He took a slip of paper from his pants pocket and offered it to me. After memorizing the new address, I gave the paper back to him. I reached into my shirt and removed a thick envelope. We were near the outskirts of town and I could see a Jeep parked outside a cantina. As the driver pulled in next to the Jeep I handed him the envelope. Our transaction was complete.

I got out and crossed over to the Jeep. Before I settled into the driver's seat, the driver leaned out his window and said, "Vaya con Dios… y gracias." [_Go with God… and thank you_.]

We made eye contact and I saw a look of gratitude in his. Even the locals hated the coyotes. Then he drove off.

It was fucking hot and the Jeep didn't have AC. I wanted to get this over with pronto and get back to the States. I made a beeline for the new address.

Ignacio Torres didn't know what hit him. I broke down the door of the hovel and found Nacho still in bed sound asleep. He was alone. I imagined the woman he was living with was at work. I slapped him hard across the face and watched him jump out of bed, his confusion evident.

"Who the hell are you?" he exclaimed [in Spanish], as his eyes darted around the tiny room and beyond, wondering if I was alone or with others.

I knew the terrifying presence I made and took pleasure in seeing the fear show in his eyes. I wanted him to know the same fear he'd caused in so many people. One death wasn't enough for someone as evil as him.

"Nacho Torres, I'm Marc Pardo. Several months ago, I paid you to help me cross the border. You didn't keep your end of the bargain. I'm here to collect, with interest." Recognition dawned in his eyes.

"I see your memory is returning." I chuckled at my words. I'd had a few flashes of returned memory myself the last few hours and the horrific images of my past had steeled me for what I was about to do.

Then another memory hit me! This one was so vivid I could taste blood in my mouth, and smell the sweat, urine and fear of that long ago day. A wave of revulsion washed over me and I nearly retched.

It had been my first secret mission, shortly after I'd left the Rangers. I was operating alone. The memory was so strong I could imagine everything, like it was happening now. I found myself standing in a similar room, tiny, dank and dirty, though this was a hut in the middle of the jungle. I was on a rampage, that part hadn't changed. And the man I was after was standing across from me. He was bigger than Nacho and younger, but just as evil.

I'd just found out he and his men had viciously raped and murdered my informant, a sweet young girl from a nearby village. I'd used my charms to convince her to obtain information about the whereabouts of a ruthless drug lord. One of his henchmen had discovered that she'd helped me. I was the one to find her mutilated body, the same body I'd enjoyed the night before.

Something inside me snapped as I held her tortured bloody body to my chest. I went into a rage and hunted down and brutally murdered the men who had killed her. I spent weeks tracking each man down and took great satisfaction in wringing the life from them with my bare hands. I'd saved the ringleader for last. He was bigger than me, with more muscle, but I was filled with righteous rage. I'd lost control and did unspeakable things, things that made me question my own sanity. I can still remember standing over his torn and battered form, jacking off and watching my semen mix with the blood pooling around his still warm body.

As the vision of that horrific memory went through my mind so did the emotions I'd felt at the time. Blind rage, righteous satisfaction, and then the all consuming guilt for the death of an innocent girl. That's when the feelings of self-loathing started. That's when I started doubting myself, wondering just how stable I was… mentally, emotionally and sexually. That's when I developed the tight iron control over my emotions, my body and my facial expressions.

_¡Madre de Dios!_ Pain – emotional pain so real, so physical in nature – ripped through my body and my mind. I didn't need to remember this. I didn't _want_ to remember this. How many other memories were lurking just beneath the surface, ready to tear my heart and soul apart again?

The vision cleared and standing in front of me was Nacho Torres, not the henchman I'd brutally murdered all those years ago. What hadn't cleared though, was the emotion, the hate and the guilt. I spat the bile from my mouth and, finding the strength from somewhere, I clamped down on my rage and made a decision.

I picked up a pair of dirty trousers off the floor and flung them across the bed to him. "Get dressed. We're going for a little ride."

He took his time getting dressed. I saw him reach for something under the mattress and I grinned. He was going to make this fun for me. Good. I needed to let off a little steam.

When Nacho finally 'agreed' to get into the Jeep, he was a little the worse for wear. And I had worked up a decent sweat. At least he wouldn't be talking much on the drive to the border. His jaw was broken, as were several of his ribs. With his hands cuffed behind his back, a jeep ride wouldn't be very comfortable, but then Nacho hadn't cared about the comfort of his 'clients' either.

I tucked my SEALS cap on my head, covering the still healing incision and the hair stubble just growing in. After taking a series of side streets to get out of town, I turned onto Carretera Federal 2. The road was paved and the going was smooth for many kilometers. Nacho had some inkling where we were going when I turned off the highway onto an unmarked dirt road. The traveling wasn't nearly as smooth now and I knew Nacho's ribs were giving him hell. To his credit, he remained silent. Maybe it was because of his splintered jaw.

The heat was oppressive and it was still early in the morning. You could see waves of heat rolling off the desolate desert sands. Vegetation was sparse and thorny, offering little respite from the unwavering sun. The daunting specter of El Pinacate loomed immediately to our left. The jagged mountains of the volcanic range were steep and forbidding.

The kilometers dragged by as the open vehicle bounced along the rough dirt trail. The going was slow, hindered by the poor condition of the path we were following. It certainly couldn't be called a road, even by Mexican standards. It took several hours to travel the next forty or so miles to the border.

It always amazed me how unremarkable the U.S./Mexico border was. In this remote stretch of the Lower Sonoran Desert, the border fence consisted of a dilapidated barbed wire fence. There were miles and miles of open desert and desert mountains in every direction you looked. No open water or trees anywhere. And best of all, no roads, no houses, no power lines, nothing manmade. A true wilderness.

I selected a special crossing point for Nacho. Only someone like him could appreciate the challenge before him. He could walk north into the United States, but he'd have to negotiate the forty or fifty miles of hell that was the Cabeza Prieta before he reached Interstate 8. Or he could choose to return to Mexico and face El Pinacate. These volcanic mountains offered their unique brand of hell. They were black and absorbed the heat that beat relentlessly down upon them and radiated it back up. Walking through them was like being in an oven turned up to 'broil.' Plus, the ground was made up of sharp, jagged rock that would tear your skin to ribbons if you fell.

There were several vultures circling overhead. I wondered if we were what had attracted their attention or if they had spotted something already dead. My companion glanced up at the large black birds gliding above us, possibly wondering if he would be their next meal. Nacho would undoubtedly encounter many other inhabitants who called this place home, like sidewinders, scorpions and Gila monsters, all venomous, all painful.

I ordered Nacho out of the vehicle. He refused until I marched around to his side. Reluctantly, he stepped out onto the baking sand. I removed his handcuffs and handed him a gallon jug of water. Just what he gave me those many months ago.

The look he gave me was priceless. He actually had a look of hope in his eyes. He'd thought I was going to kill him outright. Little did he know how close he'd come to that fate. In a day or so, he might wish I had. But killing him now would be too quick. I wanted him to suffer the same fate he'd made all those people endure, the desperate ones who'd paid him their life savings to shepherd them to safety. Desperate people like me, like Marc Pardo.

I waved my hand northward. "Buen viaje," I grinned. [_Good journey_.]

Nacho hesitated. I could see him contemplating the chances of him besting me in a fight. We'd already been down that road and he'd lost, miserably. I put my foot on the bottom strand of wire and lifted the other two with my hand. He cursed me before ducking between the spread wires.

We stood on opposite sides of the fence staring at each other. I felt no remorse. I knew this was the only way justice would be served. I knew how the courts on either side of the border handled cases like this. All he'd get was a slap on the wrist. Nacho Torres was only one evil man among thousands, but he would soon be one less evil man who no longer could destroy innocent lives.

I returned to the Jeep and put up the canvas top. Before I got back in, I took the handgun from the small of my back and returned it to the duffel. I had my own gallon jug of water and after taking a long swig, I settled in to wait. It would be several hours before Nacho would be out of sight. Time enough to leave then.

The heat was oppressive. It matched my mood. Sitting alone out here in the middle of nowhere was just where I needed to be. I hadn't expected to get any memories back this soon, but the flashes just kept coming. They were disconcerting to say the least. From reading my old mission reports, I knew I'd done terrible things, but reliving them with the visuals so vivid in my mind were another reality altogether.

They were one reason I left New Jersey… and Stephanie. I needed time to process what was happening to me. The emotions they brought up were nearly overwhelming. I could feel the anger, the rage building up inside me. And following those emotions were the self-loathing, the guilt, the regret. All the emotions I'd worked so hard at to suppress. _Fuck!_


	48. Chapter 48 Memories, Regrets and Hope

**Chapter 48 – Memories, Regrets and Hope**

_There is no refuge from memory and remorse in this world. _

_The spirits of our foolish deeds haunt us, with or without repentance._

Carlos' POV

The continuous trickle of sweat dripping from my back down through my butt crack was the irritating annoyance that finally roused me from my unwelcome thoughts. My clothes were soaked after hours of roasting in the open cab of the Jeep. There wasn't even the hint of a breeze to wick away the beads of sweat that just kept coming. I downed the last swallow of tepid water from the jug and tossed it into the back.

I'd been staring at the same never-ending horizon for most of the day. Nothing had changed or moved in all that time, not since the bent form of Nacho trudging across the desert had disappeared in the undulating haze of heat waves. Not a bird, a rabbit or even a lizard had crossed my line of sight – only the passage of time. The dusky sky was now blood red matching my foul mood.

I hadn't intended to stay put this long, but my frame of mind hadn't lent itself to conforming to the social niceties required when among civilized people, and I definitely did not feel like being civil. All I wanted now was a shower. And a cold beer – lots of ice cold beer.

. . .

The scattered array of lights twinkling in the dark expanse before me announced the presence of a town long before any road sign let me know its name. I bypassed the 'nice' part of the sleepy Mexican pueblo and parked in front of a rundown cantina that looked disreputable enough for my present tastes. All eyes, most bleary and bloodshot, turned on me as I pushed through the heavy wood door and entered the bar. And as quickly, all eyes were averted, the patrons resuming their appearance of a quiet drunken stupor.

I walked over to the corner table and stopped. The lone occupant slowly raised his head and gazed up at me. Our eyes met and he hastily scurried away to another table. I lowered myself to the chair and caught the eye of the bartender. He brought over an unlabeled bottle of beer, setting it down in front of me. I closed my hand around the soothing cool glass and raised it to my parched lips.

"Mantenerlos venida," I ordered. [_Keep them coming_.] He dipped his head once and went back behind the counter. In a minute, he returned with another bottle. Satisfied that my meager needs would be met, I relaxed and leaned back against the rough-hewn planks of the bar wall.

Spending the day in the baking sun, having one fucked up mission after another flit through my mind, was bad enough. But I also felt my body jerk each time a bullet ripped through me or a knife sliced into me. Even worse, were the memories of the damage I'd willingly inflicted on other bodies. It had been one thing to live through these events over several years of well-planned missions, special ops and unexpected skirmishes, but to have them thrust into my mind unbidden, one after another, all in one afternoon was absolute torture.

In between these random pictures floating around in my brain, I was left with the unsettling emotions I'd experienced when the events had occurred. I felt completely drained. I wondered if the bartender had enough beer to make me forget again.

For a couple of months now, I hadn't been able to come to terms with some of my past actions, especially those concerning Stephanie and my family. Until now, I had no idea of the kind of life I'd lived before. Now, after experiencing the flood of memories I wondered how I'd come through it with as much sanity as I had. And I could understand why I had avoided getting close to anyone.

So, where did this leave me with Stephanie?

When I woke this morning… _Dios, was it only this morning?_ Stephanie was cuddled up against my side, her arm thrown over my hips. She looked so peaceful. It made it easier to leave her, knowing that in the miserable mood I was in and not being in control of my fluctuating emotions, I would only destroy what peace she had.

After today, would I ever be able to be around her again with any peace in my heart? I felt unclean, unworthy of her love, her trust. It had been so much easier without the memories.

I reached up and rubbed the incision, the sutures pulling and causing a sharp catch of pain as each knot scraped against my palm. Damn it all to hell! I should have left well enough alone.

I thought about how happy I was with the Ye'kuana, oblivious to anything in my past. It wasn't until I realized how much of my life I was missing that my dissatisfaction had begun.

To know there is someone out there, someone who holds your heart, and _you can't remember anything_ _but the feeling of loss_, is another form of torture. I lived with that loss, that emptiness for months and I can now say that was the worst feeling of my life.

It was a miracle that Steph and I found each other again. To lose her now because I _could _remember would be like a slow death.

Thinking of Stephanie brought past visions of her to my mind. I remembered the first time I saw her – standing in the doorway of that diner – it brought a smile to my face, the first one in days. I could see her trying to shore up her confidence and steel herself for something unpleasant. I guess I was the something unpleasant. Back then, I was in ghetto mode trying to get my 'rep' as a badass established. She saw through it and managed to suck me in from the very start.

But it was the incident with the car thief who stole her purse and the new gun I'd helped her pick out that forged our initial bond. She needed me. At least that's what I told myself. Little did I know that I was the needy one.

Each time she called, I came. Each time she'd managed to get herself into a bigger mess that only I could get her out of. She became addictive. She was always getting into something unexpected and it took a lot to surprise me, but she did – constantly. And after the shower rod incident, there was a heightened level of pleasurable anticipation waiting for her next call. I started seeking her out at Vinnie's and dragging her into the alley just so I could touch her, smell her hair and _damn_, steal a kiss from those luscious lips that fueled my lust for her.

Beer after beer, memory after memory, another hour of remembering Stephanie found me relaxed and smiling. The beer had numbed me enough to dull the emotional barrage I'd endured all day. The bartender was doing his job. I had to remember to leave him a good tip.

I remembered in vivid detail making love to Stephanie that first time, thinking one fuck and I'd get her out of my system. (_snort_) It was more like her infiltrating my hard won defenses in a single night and me unable to shake her out. I'd been able to suppress any feelings of regret for all the horrible things I'd done, but not for that night. Not for having my way with her and then sending her back to that asshole Morelli. I'll always regret that.

When I came home from that particularly FUBAR'ed mission to find Steph asleep in my bed, I'd been inordinately pleased, and again surprised. I knew I scared her, scared her Burg upbringing, her Catholic sensibilities. I should have made my move; I should have been honest with her then. But she was going through so much with the Slayers' death threat hanging over her. Again, she needed me and I needed to be there for her.

I told myself over and over that I didn't do relationships, that it was for her own good. I'd even convinced myself. The longer she stayed with the cop, the more I convinced myself of the futility of there ever being an 'us.' Until that last day when she showed up out of the blue and asked for a job. And finally, Steph chose me and admitted she loved me.

I bolted straight up and out of my chair, knocking my beer over and startling a few nearby drunks. _I remembered!_ That day I told her I loved her, too. I committed myself to her. I promised to come back to her and that we would have our someday. Somehow, back then, I'd found a way to accept my past and embrace a relationship with Stephanie.

If I could do it then, I could do it now. Now, I was even stronger. This past year had shown me what my life could be, what I wanted it to be. A life without the constant need to be in tight control of my every thought and action. A life that had laughter and joy in it, just because. A life that had hope.

I knew there would be unwelcome surprises from still buried memories that could surface at any time, but now I had some perspective on my life. I could handle anything as long as I knew Stephanie would be by my side.

It was time to finish my business and go home. And now, I was looking forward to going home.

. . .

I took great pleasure in crossing back into the U.S., legally this time. Driving through the Port of Entry at Lukeville was a simple process. I crossed into Arizona just before midnight and continued on to the small mining town of Ajo.

There was one rundown motel that had a vacancy. It also had AC and hot and cold running water so it was a four-star accommodation in my book. A shower was first on my agenda, then some much needed sleep.

I needed some respite from the onslaught of scenes from my past that kept ambushing me when I least expected it. The feelings they aroused within me were exhausting and unwelcome. I just wanted to sleep the sleep of the dead.

I'd arranged to meet with the deliveryman first thing in the morning. I'd have him follow me into Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument with Terra's thank you present. I was looking forward to seeing her again. She was passionate about her work and dedicated to protecting the environment and she still managed to find ways to include humanitarian efforts in her busy life. I'd never forget that she risked it all to save me and send me safely on my way to continue my journey.

The day dawned bright and, not surprisingly, hot. The tow truck driver was waiting for me at the edge of town. Perched on the flat bed was a brand new short-bed pickup truck complete with an insulated shell over the truck bed. I leaned in and glanced through the window. The truck was outfitted just as I'd instructed. Double fuel tanks, heavy duty suspension, bracings on the sides that held five-gallon water containers, and net 'pouches' secured to the inside of the bed. One of the pouches contained an extensive first aid and desert survival kit and another held stuffed daypacks ready for easy distribution to needy travelers. There was still plenty of room in the truck bed for Terra's work equipment. I realized she might have a sentimental attachment to her old vehicle so I'd chosen a silver paint job just like the one on the original.

I led the way down the road through the National Monument and pulled into the main parking lot in front of the visitor center. The tow truck driver pulled in behind me. There were a few vehicles parked around the side of the building and Terra's old beat up pickup was one of them.

I took in the majestic surroundings, something I hadn't been in any shape to when I was here before. A range of mountains loomed close by and the amount of vegetation was unexpected. The Palo Verde trees were awash in blooms of vibrant yellow and the underbrush was thick and equally as colorful. The desert was actually a beautiful place, as long as you knew you could escape the heat and dryness when it got too overwhelming.

It was a little after 8 in the morning and the Stars and Stripes were already flying high above the visitor center. Seeing our Nation's flag flying free like that struck a deep chord within me, especially with all the military memories that were surfacing.

While standing in the parking lot gazing at the flag, another vision took over. I saw myself in uniform standing at attention as Sergeant Major Morales awarded me my Ranger tab. It was one of my proudest moments and all the emotion of that day came flooding back. This was one memory I didn't mind reliving.

I also remembered wearing a park ranger uniform that last time I was here and wondering why the word 'ranger' felt so familiar. A grin spread across my face.

A car passed by the visitor center, distracting me with its cloud of black smoke billowing from the exhaust pipe. Suddenly it backfired, and the loud 'bang' flushed out a pair of Gambel's Quail from the bushes. The dramatic desert vistas that were spread out before me dimmed as another memory flashed into my awareness. I put my hand on the Jeep to steady myself. For a moment it was as if I'd been transported back in time to Iran… the heat beating down, the grenades exploding, the nerves pounding. I shook my head and the vision cleared, but I still felt the adrenaline rush and the heat. I guess summer in the desert, any desert, was the same.

"Kane?" A woman's voice brought me back to the present. "Is that really you?"

I turned to see Terra walking toward me, the door to the visitor center closing behind her. She looked the same as I last saw her. She was wearing a National Park Service uniform and her curly brown hair fell around her smiling face. I gave her a hug and got it returned two-fold. Gazing into her blue-green eyes, I didn't see much of Stephanie in her, but I could see how Terra would remind me of the woman who held my heart. I thought the two of them would hit it off if they ever met.

"Terra, it's good to see you again," I said, wiping the back of my hand across my damp forehead, "though I haven't missed the hot temperatures you seem to enjoy."

"It's good to see you too, especially under better circumstances," she said, grinning. "What are you doing here?"

"I was in Mexico, down in Puerto Peñasco, I think you call it Rocky Point. I was enjoying some sun, a few drinks and some nachos." I chuckled at my private joke.

"Nachos?"

"Yeah, the plateful I had was called the Coyote Special, muy picante. In fact it was a real killer."

She laughed heartily and I smiled with her, though for another reason entirely. "Come on in out of the heat," she invited, tugging on my hand.

"Wait. I have something to show you. Actually, it's a little thank you gift." I motioned to the tow truck driver to unload his cargo. Still hand in hand, I led her around the Jeep so she could see her new truck.

"I've thought of you often since you sent me on my way that hot dry morning. I wanted to thank you for saving my life. And for reminding me that the world still has good people in it who are willing to act on their principles, even when it jeopardizes their own well being."

I handed her a little box wrapped with a red ribbon as she blushed at my words, reminding me again of… of… There was another name I was going to say just on the tip of my tongue. The vision in my head was of Stephanie with me handing her a set of car keys, but I called her something else. The look Steph gave me in my memory was the same one Terra was giving me now.

Damn! I was glad I was getting my memories back, but hated that they were coming in incomplete and so sporadically. And I hadn't expected the rush of emotions triggered by them. It was throwing me for a loop and there was no controlling when they'd come or how strong the feelings they'd evoke.

"What is this, Kane?" Terra held out the box and was staring at the truck now parked before her. She watched, bewildered, as I pulled out my pocketknife, the one she'd given me, and cut the ribbon off the box. I motioned her to open it.

"Your truck seemed to be on its last legs when I was here and I kept thinking how I would have felt if it hadn't started that first time out in the desert. _I_ was the one on my last legs then and I was counting on you and your truck to save me. I didn't want you to be stranded at an inopportune time. Please, accept this along with my heartfelt thanks."

She lifted the lid off the box and took out a set of keys. She teared up but didn't cry. I was glad for that. I hated it when women cried in front of me. Her hand over her mouth, her eyes big, she moved hesitantly toward the vehicle. I joined the driver and thanked him, giving him a hefty tip. We both enjoyed watching Terra admire her new vehicle.

She ran her hands over the hood and looked into the cab. Hanging over the passenger side window was a NPS uniform, size XL, covered with a dry cleaning bag. Turning back toward me, she smiled big and her eyes were laughing.

Continuing down the length of the truck, she ran her hands over the water tanks and peered into the shell's side window. A little cry escaped her throat and she raced to the rear, lifting the back of the shell. Sticking her head around the side, she cried, "This is too much. You thought of everything." She ran around to the other side and I heard her clap her hands and exclaim, "Two gas tanks. Perfect."

The next thing I knew, she came flying into my arms and gave me a bear hug and then a big kiss on my cheek. "Thank you. Thank you, Kane. It's perfect." Then she got a concerned look. "But it's too much. It had to have cost a fortune. I can't accept this." She handed back the keys.

Smiling, I folded her fingers around the keys and said, "It's only a truck, not the Taj Mahal. You deserve it." Terra teared up again and nodded. Then, noticing the sheen of sweat on my forehead, she dragged me into the visitor center.

A blast of cold air hit me the minute we entered. Terra introduced me to her boss, a big strapping Park Ranger complete with a Smokey The Bear hat, and then she led me into her office. It was a small crowded room filled with a large wooden desk and wall to wall file cabinets. There were reports and folders everywhere. She dumped the folders that had been on a side chair and motioned me to sit. Leaning back in her chair, she pulled two bottles of water out of a small refrigerator and handed me one. A grin creased her face and she admonished, "Gotta keep you tenderfoots hydrated." We both took a drink of cold water and grinned at each other, remembering our first encounter.

I noticed her staring at my SEALS cap, or maybe it was my shaved head. I removed the cap and she gasped, staring at my sutured incision.

"The last time I saw you, you had a nasty shoulder wound, and now your head is all stitched up. You must lead an exciting life," she exclaimed.

"This?" I touched the left side of my head. "This was to remove a piece of shrapnel from my brain. That was the start of all my trouble more than a year ago. It wiped out my memories. They're just starting to return," I informed her.

"When I was here before, I had no idea who I was or how to find out. You gave me hope and a chance to live long enough to discover myself again. I finally found out who I was."

Terra studied my face before replying, "I think you've always known who you are, at least on a deeper level. But who are you on the surface?"

I tilted my head toward her, "My name is Carlos Mañoso, at your service. By the way, I'm an American citizen, I've served in the military and I now own a multi-state security firm back East. I do pretty well for a man who had to cross into this country illegally without a penny to his… fake name. I'll always be in your debt, Terra."

"It's nice to meet the real you, Carlos," she said. "About my fake name…"

"Don't worry about it. You were right to keep our identities secret then. I'm just thankful it was you who found me. Despite my less than upstanding circumstances, you treated me with respect and discretion."

She took it all in and I saw a dawning look come into her eyes. She got up and grabbed a folder from the top of the nearest cabinet. Handing it to me, she asked, "Is this your doing?"

I opened the folder and saw a letter with the National Park Service logo. The letter informed Terra (not her real name) that an anonymous $100,000 donation had been received with explicit directions on how it was to be spent. The money could only be used for research into the desert pupfish of Quitobaquito Springs and as the Park biologist the money was hers. I struggled to keep my expression blank, but she'd caught me unaware.

"Congratulations," I said. "This is right up your alley."

"And you had nothing to do with it?" she asked, clearly doubting my noncommittal response.

I shrugged my shoulders.

"Uh huh," she uttered, her eyes narrowing as she stared at me.

We talked a while longer, me telling her a little about my life in Trenton, including Stephanie, and she telling me the details of her new research project and about a new man in her life.

Upon leaving, Terra hugged me again and thanked me, "Kane, or I guess I should call you Carlos, I didn't know my life was about to change the day I found you at the Springs, but you are my lucky charm. Gracias, mi amigo."

"I could say the same about you, and by the way, you can call me Ranger." I kissed her cheek as she puzzled over the Ranger comment and then I walked out the door into the heat again. It didn't seem as bad now. Maybe I was getting used to it.


	49. Chapter 49 Marcojuz

**Chapter 49 – Marcojuz**

_Don't ignore the past, but deal with it, on your own pace. _

_Once you deal with it, you are free of it;_

_and you are free to embrace your life and be a happy loving person _

_because if you don't, the past will come back to haunt _

_and keep coming back to haunt you._

Carlos' POV

My last stop was San Francisco. As a reward to myself, I had a Porsche Boxster waiting for me at the airport. It was only mid-afternoon when I arrived in the city by the bay, so I decided to drop in unannounced on Illiana and see the new facilities. Barnes & Nobel Pharmaceuticals, Inc. had been sold to help pay the court-ordered restitution costs to those who'd been harmed by the illegal drugs Andrew Barnes had produced and maliciously distributed.

Illiana called the new company Parduhn-Butterwick, Inc., in honor of both her grandmothers. This much smaller company specialized in life saving drugs formulated from many of the natural cures found in the Amazon rainforest. Most of the cures had been discovered by Mary Butterwick or Yada and her Ye'kuana ancestors.

I hadn't told Illiana I was coming, wanting to surprise her. I parked on the side of the new building. Instead of the multiple buildings of the original business, the new company was completely contained within one large structure. Security was still tight as the new company had a cutting edge research and development division. Illiana and her crack team were pioneering new drugs unheard of in the traditional drug industry.

A security guard ushered me up the stairs to the top floor and asked me to wait for Ms. Parduhn's assistant. I smiled as Maggie came into the room carrying a large portfolio case. She'd obviously been promoted from receptionist to executive assistant. I wondered if she'd remember me. When she screamed and dropped the case, I had my answer. She flung herself at me and I had to beg her to loosen her hold on my neck because I couldn't breathe.

"Marc, damn, it's so good to see you again. I'd heard you were okay after you got shot, but it's great to see you looking so well. I can't believe all that's happened. That bastard Barnes and those awful drugs he made." She shook her head.

"It's good to see you too, Maggie. And please, call me Carlos. Marc Pardo is in my past now." I picked up the sheaf of papers she dropped. They were mockups of PR materials for some of the company's new products. "Looks like business is good," I said.

Maggie grinned, "Yeah, we're coming back, slowly but surely. You're here to see Illiana?" she asked. "Let me call her. I think she's down in R&D."

"Can I go down and see her there?" I inquired.

Maggie jumped up. "Sure, let's go. Illiana will be thrilled to see you."

The R&D lab was on the second floor and security was extra tight. I'd been observing the cameras, alarms and sensors from the moment I drove on site. Obviously, Illiana had an excellent security firm install her system. Maybe Pax had advised her. We bypassed the guard and his body check, but Maggie still had to enter the right code and use the handprint pad to open the door. She let me enter first.

I was impressed with what I saw. Everything in the lab was spotless and brand new. There was an undercurrent of barely contained energy among the group of researchers clustered around a table at the far end of the room. The group was primarily women; only two were men and everyone except Illiana was decked out in white lab coats. Standing next to Illiana was Cathy. I was glad to see her working in the lab. I'd hoped Cathy had been able to survive the downsizing.

Maggie left me saying she had work to do and I quietly approached the group. Illiana glanced my way and then back to the equipment on the table. In a flash, her head snapped up and she cried out my Ye'kuana name.

"Marco!" Illiana raced down the aisle toward me. She looked wonderful, as beautiful as ever. I caught her up in my arms and swung her around, careful not to bump into anything.

"Why didn't you let me know you were coming?" she cried. "And what happened to your hair… and your head? _Omigod_, are those stitches?"

She lifted her hand and tenderly touched the left side of my head, carefully avoiding the incision. I caught her hand, not comfortable with displays of concern over me.

"I'm fine, Illiana," I said, redirecting the conversation. "Your new digs are impressive. Maggie tells me you're really making a name for yourself."

Her smile lit up her face and she squeezed my hand. "I'd like to introduce you to my research team," she said, leading me over to the group who'd stopped talking and was watching us intently. "Everyone, this is one of our biggest investors and a good friend of mine, Marc Pardo… oh wait… I mean Carlos…"

"Carlos Mañoso," I filled in, extending my hand to the rest of the team. "It's nice to meet all of you."

Cathy stepped forward and held out her hand. "I don't know if you remember me. I'm…"

"Of course I remember you, Cathy." Her name tag listed her title as 'Project Manager.' "I see you have your own project at last," I said, gesturing to the colorful liquids filling the beakers in front of us. "Is it top secret, or one you can share with an investor?"

She smiled shyly, "We're working on an amazing find Illiana brought back from the rainforest." She looked over at Illiana. "What do you think? Can we let him in on the secret?"

Illiana nodded. "Of course, once we tell you, we'll have to kill you," she joked. Given our past circumstances, the teasing wasn't far off the mark.

The rest of the researchers returned to their stations, leaving Cathy, Illiana and I standing around the table.

Illiana picked up one of the beakers filled with a dark purplish liquid. "This is our newest find. I brought this back from my latest trip, a gift from Yada. Marco… I mean Carlos…" she rolled her eyes at her verbal faux pas, "this wouldn't have happened if not for you. It's a secret Yada had planned to take to her grave, but she confided to me that after knowing you, she had a new lease on life and has been taking this 'tonic' regularly. She's even found herself a new beau. She decided women, especially older women the world over deserved this," she said with a twinkle in her eyes.

I was now quite curious what this purple potion could do. Illiana pointed to a large poster hanging on the wall. The poster was a photograph of a tiny colorful frog perched on the lip of a light green pitcher-looking plant attached to a tree trunk. The background was made up of green jungle vegetation and there was a Parduhn-Butterwick logo on the bottom. Scrawled across the top of the poster in large handwritten black letters was the word 'Marcojuz.'

Illiana explained, "This compound is made from the poisonous 'dew' produced on the back of that tiny frog. The frog reproduces in the small pool of water found in the 'pitcher' of that bromeliad. All, of course, are only found in one region of the Amazon rainforest."

"Interesting. _And_…" I prompted.

Cathy took over. "I've been able to replicate the 'dew' without the poisonous elements and we will soon be in clinical trials." Cathy's eyes sparkled, "The potion works like testosterone, but this drug is only effective for women. Its main selling point is that it acts like a fountain of youth drug."

My face must have betrayed my surprise because Cathy chuckled, hiding her laughter behind her hand. She recovered her composure and continued, "Older women get back some skin elasticity, and their energy and passion levels increase ten fold. In other words, a woman with no or low libido who takes this drug can regain an interest in sex again. And it does this without the negative side effects that testosterone can have on women, such as excessive facial hair and a deeper voice."

Now I was really impressed. "That's quite a feat, especially in such a short time, Cathy. Great job! Pharmacognosy is clearly the right field for you."

"You remembered my specialty! That means a lot to me," she said, her cheeks flushing.

I was more comfortable keeping the conversation on the project so I leaned over the beaker and took a big whiff. "It smells like turpentine," I grimaced.

Illiana nudged Cathy. "Tell him what we've been calling it." She reached behind her and turned on a stereo. The familiar strains of a golden oldie tune filled the lab.

_I took my troubles down to Madam Rue._

_You know that gypsy with the gold-capped tooth._

_She's got a pad down at 34th and Vine,_

_Sellin' little bottles of Love Potion Number Nine._

Cathy blushed, but plunged ahead. "We've jokingly been calling it… Love Potion Number Femi-Nine."

I threw back my head and laughed. I guess the creative process brought out a sense of humor. The song continued to play as the women joked about the implications of a possible drug overdose. I stayed silent on the subject, imagining the song was played quite a bit in this mostly female lab.

_I told her that I was a flop with chicks._

_I've been that way since 1956._

_She looked at my palm and she made a magic sign._

_She said, "Now, what you need is... Love Potion Number Nine."_

_She bent down and turned around and gave me a wink._

_She said, "I'm gonna mix it up right here in the sink."_

_It smelled like turpentine and looked like India ink._

_I held my nose, I closed my eyes...I took a drink._

_I didn't know if it was day or night._

_I started kissin' every thing in sight._

_But when I kissed a cop down at 34th and Vine,_

_he broke my little bottle of...Love Potion Number Nine._

_Love Potion Number Nine_

_Love Potion Number Nine_

_Love Potion Number Nine_

When the song ended, Illiana invited me up to her office. I said goodbye to Cathy and wished her well in the development of many more innovative drugs.

With cups of coffee in hand, Illiana and I settled on the couch in her simple, tastefully decorated office.

"You look happy, Illiana. After everything that's happened, I wasn't sure how I'd find you."

She gave me a wan smile. "I've had my share of bad days. The worst was right after you left, or should I say _taken away_. Everything that happened that awful night not only turned my life upside down, it broke my heart."

Her last words were said with a sharp catch in her throat. She could have been talking about her grandfather and his deadly agenda or… me. That was the night she finally came face to face with the fact that her grandfather hated her simply because her skin wasn't lily white and he'd used the medical finds she'd brought him to carry out his genocide plans.

That same night she also learned I loved someone else, that I'd always loved someone else, even if I hadn't been able to put it into words. I hadn't realized at the time the strength of her feelings for me. That fatal night and the weeks and months afterward must have been hell for her and I was locked away at Fort Carson, unable to provide any help or comfort except through my lawyer.

Her weak smile grew a bit stronger with her next words. "The courts were kind to me, though. I lost the company, but they didn't hold me personally responsible for anything. And I had some good people who believed in me enough to trust their money with me." She reached over and took my hand in hers.

"Thank you, Carlos. You investing in me convinced many of my other backers to do the same. I think you'll be happy with our first year profits."

She jumped up and grabbed a document off her desk. She handed it to me and I could see it was the draft of her company's annual business report." Her voice took on an excited tone as she explained, "We were able to continue many of the B&N patented drugs and, of course, our newer drugs are just now coming on the market. Grandfather had held back many of the new finds I'd brought from my trips to South America while he pursued his terrible agenda, but it meant that I had those new drugs ready for production." She glanced down at her fidgeting hands. "I should have inserted myself more in the business end of things."

It was obvious she was still saddened and felt responsible for the harm her grandfather had perpetrated on the company and its trusting clients.

"If I can offer any advice, I'd tell you to leave the guilt behind. You are not responsible for what that... man did. Move on. You've made a fine start."

"Thank you, Carlos." Her face took on a look of concern and she reached for my hand once again. "And you? Have you been able to move on?" she asked.

"Yes." I pulled my hand back, feeling a reticence in confiding in her now. I wasn't sure if I was my aloofness returning that was holding me back or the fact that I realized she'd been in love with me. But first and foremost, she was a friend and a good one and had risked a lot for me. She deserved to know about the good things in my life.

"I've settled back into my life in Trenton. Stephanie and I are getting reacquainted. She's… been my rock through all this." I touched the incision on my head. "I had the final piece of shrapnel removed. With any luck, most of my memories will return."

There was a new framed photograph on the shelf behind us. I picked it up and saw Juan, Yada and Joran smiling back at me. "Please tell Yada about my surgery and memories returning next time you see her. And thank her for me for all she did. And speaking of that, I'd like to send some gifts to the tribe. I thought I could mail them to the village you lease your canoes from, but you would have to get them downriver to the tribe."

Illiana smiled. "Send them down. My next trip will be the first of the month. What did you have in mind?"

"I was thinking of a teak rocking chair for Yada. I know her arthritis acts up. I also ordered a set of surgical instruments for her and a basic distillation kit."

"She'll appreciate your gifts. Do you know what Yada calls our little 'love potion' discovery?"

I gave her a fearful look. Illiana laughed at my expression and chortled, "_Marcojuz!_"

I closed my eyes. "Please tell me you will _not_ name it that?"

"I'm leaving the name of the drug up to our marketing division. I will tell you that the little frog now bears your Ye'kuana name, though. It was officially determined that this frog is its own species and Yada was given the honor of naming it, so you now have a poisonous frog named after you: _Dendrobates marcos_."

I wasn't sure how 'honored' I was, but I guess it helped my pride that the 'dew' this little frog produced would not only be used to increase women's sex drive, but it was also used by Ye'kuana warriors to poison their arrows when going into battle.

Poison arrows reminded me of my gift list. "For Juan, I was thinking of a compound bow, a top of the line set of tools for making canoes and maybe one of those ergonomic wooden chairs. He's spending more and more time whittling with the old men. The chair will help with his back pain." Illiana nodded. "And for Joran, his own compound bow, a pair of binoculars and a set of carving tools. The wooden figures he makes are excellent and with better tools they'll be phenomenal."

"Those are all thoughtful gifts and will be greatly appreciated. I can just see that rocking chair strapped to the front of the canoe as it goes over the rapids," she laughed. "You've been so generous, Carlos. I know I've thanked you before, but please know how grateful both Nevi and I are that you took over her educational expenses when I lost the company. She's doing really well at school."

"I'm glad I could help. Nevi is a bright inquisitive girl and deserves every chance to learn about the world and herself. Has she decided what field she wants to go into?"

"She's debating between following in her father's footsteps and becoming a doctor or going into law and working to protect all indigenous people."

"Both are noble causes. How is she doing socially?"

"She's made many friends, especially among the other tribal kids attending her school and she's dated several different boys. Don't worry, nothing serious. She's told me none of them compare to you. I think she's holding out for a man who reminds her of you, who challenges her, so she may have a long wait. I can't blame her," Illiana said. "If Pax hadn't come into my life…" She got a dreamy faraway look in her eyes as she mentioned Pax.

Personally, I wished Nevi well with her life and hoped she waited many years to fall in love with a man and that he was nothing like me, at least in some ways. "It's interesting that Nevi may become a lawyer. I wanted to tell you that I've been in contact with the political group you work with that protects the rights of indigenous people. With their help, I purchased one hundred square miles of rainforest adjacent to Juan's village. It is being registered in the tribe's name. The new Venezuelan laws now allow indigenous people to own land. My name, of course, must remain out of any of this," I cautioned.

Illiana's jaw dropped. "Carlos, that is a priceless gift to the tribe. It will insure their future. Who would have thought one small act of kindness would be paid back with such generosity?"

"What the Ye'kuana did for me was much more than one small act. After saving my life, the tribe as a whole showed me a new way of living. I owe them so much." Wanting to get off that subject, I asked her advice about the water purification system and solar cookers I'd been thinking about purchasing for the tribe. She offered a few suggestions of her own.

"Now, what's this about Pax 'coming into your life'?" I asked, which rated a blush from Illiana as well as an embarrassed laugh.

She told me Pax had treated her with professional courtesy until the courts had adjudicated her case, and then he came on like gangbusters and swept her off her feet. She also said he had put in for a transfer to San Francisco. That told me things were getting serious between them. I thought they'd make a good couple. We talked until closing time and she invited me to dinner and to stay at her home, but I declined, opting for a room at a nearby hotel.

I needed time to myself before returning to New Jersey. The rush of memories seemed to be slowing, but I wasn't satisfied with my control of my reactions to them. I felt like I was starting all over again, and was frustrated. Most visions had come after something current triggered them, like bursting into Nacho's house with intent to kill. That meant more memories could suddenly appear at any time.

As I remembered more, my ability to exercise the iron control I was known for should come easier. I could only hope there weren't going to be too many more of them as vivid and disturbing as the last few had been.

This trip had been worthwhile and rewarding. My unfinished business now felt complete.

It was time to get home to Stephanie… and to my life – past, present and future.

**AN: Just one more chapter left.**


	50. Chapter 50 All The Way

**Chapter 50 – All The Way**

_Hope is the expectation that something outside of ourselves,_

_something or someone external, is going to come to our rescue _

_and we will live happily ever after._

Carlos' POV

The RangeMan garage was dark when I pulled into it. My flight had been delayed and I got home much later than I expected. The day shift had gone home, leaving a skeleton crew to man the monitors. I was tired. I guess what Dr. Chun had warned me about post-surgery exhaustion was true.

I made it up the stairs to the seventh floor and let myself into the apartment. Moving quietly so as not to wake Stephanie, I entered the bedroom. I anticipated her anger at me leaving so abruptly three days ago. If I could put off having to face her hurt looks and scolding until the morning, so much the better.

I stopped suddenly. The bed was empty. The apartment was empty, except for Rex. It was well after midnight – where was Stephanie? I called her cell, but it went straight to voice mail. As I went over the possibilities, I realized her personal car hadn't been in the garage when I arrived. Had she been so mad at me, she went back to her apartment? No, Rex was still here.

I ran down the stairs to the fifth floor and burst into the control room. The new recruit was on duty, Chester… something. He looked up at me and immediately cut his eyes back to the monitors. Tank had obviously warned him about not diverting his attention from the screens.

"Do you know where Stephanie Plum is?" I asked, though it came out more as a demand.

"She's been on stakeout, sir."

"Where?"

"She's been tailing a Ms. Elena Benneau. I have the address to her Newark residence here."

I realized I didn't know whether or not Steph had a tracker in her personal car. A week ago, it wouldn't have crossed my mind to have her tracked, but now… now my memories were returning and…

A flash of fear shot through me as a memory of her being taken by Con Stiva came flooding back to me. Those hours I spent trying to find her were some of the worst of my life. The rocketing emotions I felt when she tumbled out of that cabinet into my arms and I feared she was dead came back full force. I took a deep breath.

"Sir?" Chester was holding out a piece of paper to me, an address written on it.

I grabbed it and barked, "Get me Tank."

"Uh, he's in Boston. They had an emergency earlier today and he flew up there. He's due back by start of first shift."

"Get him online. I'll take it in my office."

I left Chester with his mouth hanging open. The new recruit wouldn't make it much longer at RangeMan.

It took several minutes before my phone rang. "What the fuck, Ranger? It's the middle of the night," Tank's gruff voice came booming out of the speaker.

"I need to know if there's tracker on Stephanie's personal car or if she's carrying a RangeMan phone."

There was a brief silence on the other end as Tank processed the implications of my questions.

"Don't tell me she's in trouble," he said with a sigh. "Her personal car is clean, but she has GPS on her phone. The tracking code is on my computer. Do you need me?"

"No. If I need help, I'll roust out Santos or Brown."

I hung up and strode into Tank's office and found the code for Steph's phone. I went back out to the control room and took the chair next to Chester. When I brought up her signal, it was clear she wasn't at Benneau's house or even in Newark, she was in Trenton. I traced the signal from her phone to an industrial part of town. The signal was unmoving. While copying down the address, I punched up Lester's number on my phone.

A groggy voice answered, "What?"

"Garage. Five minutes," I ordered.

I returned to my office, unlocked the top desk drawer and removed the handgun and several spare magazines. I went back to the control room and informed Chester of the situation and gave him instructions on if and when to call Brown. Then I ran down the stairs to the garage. Lester was thirty seconds behind me still tucking his shirt into his pants.

He jumped in the passenger side of the SUV I'd started and looked over at me, unspoken questions plastered all over his face. I pulled out of the garage, tires squealing.

"Steph was on stakeout tailing Elena Benneau. She's not home, her car's gone and her phone GPS shows she's at the Furnicelli warehouse district," I said, not taking my eyes off the road. I was traveling well above the speed limit.

Lester let his head drop back against the headrest. "Not a good place for anyone to be at 2 in the morning." He looked over at me. "When did you get back?"

"About twenty minutes ago. It may be nothing. She's probably sitting in her car after following Benneau to some hidden rave party, but…"

"Given Steph's history, anything's possible. Do we know anything more about Benneau's involvement with the drug theft case?" Lester asked.

"I… haven't talked to Steph since I left," I admitted. That was another reason I hadn't been looking forward to facing her. Right now though, I would give anything to have her rip me a new one – just so long as she was safe.

We found her car. It was locked and empty, her handbag on the floor tucked up under the passenger seat. After a quick reconnaissance of the area, Lester and I split up.

I was on Garvey Street when I heard a noise come from the next alley. Keeping to the shadows, I moved into the dark alley searching for the source of the noise. There was a car parked at the far end. I was about halfway down the block when I saw a woman rush out the back door of a deserted warehouse. She was carrying something large and she wore a black hoodie that hid her face.

Right on her heels came another woman, but this was one I recognized. When Stephanie reached the woman, a fight ensued. I raced toward them, but before I'd taken five steps, the warehouse exploded. My heart stopped and I watched in horror as the building's walls collapsed on top of the love of my life.

_**A few hours before…**_

Stephanie's POV

Numb! My butt was numb from sitting in my car for hours watching Elena's motel room. I'd followed her after she left that lawyer's office. She'd stopped at a Subway and got dinner and then came straight here. That was five hours ago. I was frustrated, hungry and I had to pee.

Zero had been on stakeout last night and said she'd stayed in her room all night. But my spidey sense was telling me tonight would be different. I convinced myself she _had_ to come out soon, but I was tortured with another hour of no movement from Elena.

My thoughts turned to my other main concern – Carlos. He'd been gone for three days now and hadn't called once. I was worried about him. He was supposed to be resting, but knowing him…

I should know better than to worry. Like Tank said, Ranger follows no one's orders, not even mine. Maybe especially not mine. It's not like I didn't know what he was like. He's always been a force unto himself. I guess I was going to need to learn to live with it – for better or for worse. But I was always going to worry.

I sat up suddenly as Elena's door opened. She was wearing a black sweatshirt and black slacks, making her bleached blond hair stand out even more in the dark. She got into her car and drove out onto Hamilton heading south.

I was getting pretty good at tailing cars without being spotted and followed her to the warehouse district. The area wasn't quite as bad as Stark Street, but it was creepy enough with all the abandoned buildings, stray cats screeching and deep dark shadows everywhere.

I parked my car a half a block away from the alley Elena had pulled into. Plastering my body to the side of a building, I peeked around the corner. Elena was nowhere to be seen, but she'd left the hatchback on her car open. I waited and sure enough, she came out of a back door carrying a box.

I'd bet my next month's paycheck the box contained the stolen drugs from the police departments. _I had her now, I could feel it._

She loaded the box into her car and disappeared back into the building. It looked like a deserted warehouse. Windows were broken out; some were boarded up. The entire alley and building were pitch black.

I crept forward and crossed over to the other side of the alley, the side where Elena had disappeared into the building. Taking several deep breaths and slipping my gun out from my waistband, I swiftly entered the open back door and flattened myself up against the wall. I couldn't see much in the dark, but I could hear movement in the next room.

As quietly as I could, I moved across the space I was in and slipped into the inner room. I saw a spark, heard a crackle and then everything went blank.

When I woke up, I was tied to a chair and felt like shit. Looking around all I could see were vague shadows. There was a little ambient light coming in from a hole in the roof. My body was still tingling and I knew I'd been zapped by a stun gun. _Crap and double crap!_

"Ms. Plum, you should have left well enough alone." A black-clad figure moved away from the wall and approached me. I could make out Elena's blonde hair and her annoying voice. I tried to make a snappy comeback, but all I could manage was a croak. I coughed a couple of times trying to clear the fear out of my throat. Struggling against the ropes that were tied around my middle was useless. They were cinched tight. I should have called for backup. I'd been overconfident. A rookie mistake.

"I know you and your sidekick have been following me for days. I'd hoped I was being boring enough to make you give up, but when you showed up again tonight outside my motel room, I knew I needed to do something about your nosy fat ass."

"My ass isn't any fatter than yours and my hair color's not from a bottle." _Take that, you bitch. _Yeah, I know it was lame, but it was the best I could do after having my brains scrambled by a stun gun.

Elena sneered at me, "How did you ever get a job with the DEA? You must have the dumbest luck in the world. Everything was going perfectly until you stuck your perky little nose in my business."

_Perky?_ She just keeps the insults coming. "Your _business_ seems to be framing innocent police officers," I snapped.

Elena chortled and then her voice turned angry, "Joseph Morelli isn't innocent. He _murdered_ my baby sister."

"Your sister was a drug addict. She died of an overdose. Joe didn't even know your sister had died until I told him."

"Ana died of a broken heart. She loved him and _he dumped her_."

I tried to shrug but couldn't move my arms. "People break up all the time. They hadn't even been seeing each other very long. There was no reason for her to get that upset."

"_Upset!_ She was desperate. _She was pregnant!_ My sister was carrying that bastard cop's child and he abandoned her. She fell apart; she couldn't handle it."

Pregnant! That put a whole new spin on things.

Once Elena got started there was no stopping her. "Ana was always sensitive and high strung. Being pregnant and alone was too much for her. When I found her, she was already too far gone, but she told me how awful Joe had treated her when he found out about the drug use. He called her terrible names and shoved her away like she was poor white trash. She was trying to get clean, but he wouldn't listen when she tried to explain."

I defended Joe. "Joe didn't know she was pregnant. And there was nothing about it in the death certificate."

"I was able to convince the M.E. to leave that out. It was bad enough that it said she died from a drug overdose. She died because of Mr. High & Mighty Morelli. _He needs to pay for that_." Her voice was getting shriller the more she ranted.

She mumbled something I couldn't hear and then continued speaking, but she seemed to be talking more to herself than to me. "I've been making people pay for hurting Ana for a long time. Daddy was the first."

The next few sentences were mumbled as she paced and then she turned back toward me. "Mom was always too stoned or too sick, so Daddy made me his little plaything. Or should I say lay-thing?"

She giggled at her own sick joke. I was shocked enough at her ramblings, but what she said next sent my mind reeling.

"He said I had that something 'extra,' that men would buy me my heart's desire if I would just be 'nice' to them. He wanted me to be 'nice' to his gambling buddies. They used to bring me candy and toys if I'd let them 'play nice' with me. But when I got older, they didn't want me anymore. They wanted Ana. Ana was still so little, but Daddy and his friends liked their playthings young. After what he made me do, I'd be damned if I'd let him use Ana that way."

Elena let out a high-pitched giggle. "Daddy disappeared, just like all the others." Between her giggling over possibly 'offing' her father and her sick sad story, I was close to puking.

But she kept talking, "And then it was just Ana and me. Until Christian came along. I played nice with him and he actually bought me my heart's desire. Back then, all I wanted was to get my law degree so I could put bad men, like my Daddy, away. Christian set me up in an apartment and paid my tuition. Everything was fine until he wanted me to quit my job and have babies. Like that was ever going to happen. Of course he had to go. And again, it was just Ana and me, but she wanted a man of her own and Joe…"

She turned and pointed at me. "After tonight, nothing will stand in my way of making sure Joe loses all that's important to him, like he took everything that was important to me. I thought taking his career away and ruining his reputation as a good cop was enough, but now, he's going to lose you, too. What a wonderful bonus. And you walked right into it." More high-pitched giggling.

Shit, she was really nuts! I needed to keep her talking, give me time to think of something… anything. "How did you steal all the drugs? You weren't even there at several of the police departments when they were stolen. I checked. You were at the AG's office in Newark."

Elena laughed. "Yes. I was. I knew somebody would check. I've had this whole thing planned out for months, right down to tonight. Tonight I dump the drugs in the Delaware River and take care of one last detail."

"Me?" I croaked.

"No. You weren't originally part of my plan, but I've taken care of that, too. This building is loaded with explosives, set to go off with the flick of one small switch." She pulled a little black box out of her sweatshirt pocket and showed it to me.

"No, the detail I was talking about is the cop who stole the drugs for me. He's in love with me. Can't get enough of my 'special' talents. After I dispose of these stolen drugs," she indicated a box sitting in the corner of the room, "I'll dispose of him. Mike likes heroin as much as Ana did. It'll be a simple matter to give him a fatal dose. No one knows anything about us, so I won't be linked to him."

Maybe if she knew others were on to her, she'd rethink her 'plan.' "You're wrong. We know about Mike Hanratty and have pictures of you meeting with him. And I know about your special talents. You won't get away with this."

"Did your bigmouth boyfriend tell you about me?" She let out the proverbial evil laugh. "I knew Joe would jump at the chance to sleep with me. All men do. Some of them find my special attributes exciting, but I knew Joe would be horrified. He wants to be the man, he wants things neat and tidy and traditional. He can't handle anything out of the ordinary and I'm _extraordinary_. I could have got my revenge without sleeping with him, but I couldn't resist getting in my own dig and screwing up his perfect little life. He'll think twice about jumping into bed with another woman."

"As for Hanratty, his bosses know he has a drug problem. When he's found dead of an overdose, they'll think it was an accident. Even if you have pictures of the two of us together, I'll just explain it away as mutual attraction. There's nothing illegal about two consenting adults spending time with each other."

"Now, it's time to finish this. If you've never taken a hit of heroin, you're in for a treat. You won't even care when the building explodes around you."

Elena opened the box and spent some time hunched over it. Then she came toward me holding something in front of her. As she moved across the room, a shaft of light hit the object in her hand. It was a syringe. I struggled as hard as I could, but the ropes didn't give an inch. Talking fast I tried to convince her not to do this, but she just laughed at me. I felt the needle prick my arm and then felt a rush of warmth.

Elena picked up the box and left the room. I was sick to my stomach and started to tremble. When she came back in, she untied my ropes. Removing the last rope, she giggled, "We don't want people thinking there was anyone with you when you shot yourself up with heroin. You'll be just one more dead junkie in a burned out building."

I reached for her, but she struck my jaw and I dizzily collapsed to the floor. My stomach was churning and I felt like I was going to barf. Watching Elena saunter out the door spurred me to action. I jerked to my feet and stumbled across the room. Strangely, I felt better once I started moving. Fearing the whole place was going to explode around me, I raced out the back door.

Elena was nearly at her car and I ran after her. Grabbing the back of her hoodie, I swung her around to face me, but she slammed the box she was carrying into my side. I slugged her in the midsection, knocking the wind out of her. The box fell to the ground, spilling its contents. We continued to grapple with each other moving closer to the building. I tried to steer us away from it, but Elena was strong and she kept hitting any part of me she could. Her fist connected to the side of my head and I saw stars.

And then it happened. I heard it before I felt it. First there was a phooomf, and then the ground dropped out from under us as everything exploded around us.

I woke up to the smell of burning wood and tried to stand up. I could see flames above me and darkness in front of me. And then I was thrown to the ground and Elena was punching me in the face. In spite of being dizzy and in pain, I kicked her off me and scrambled backwards. Even with the warehouse burning down around us, Elena was still trying to kill me. We were both going to be burned alive if I couldn't find a way out of wherever we were.

A portion of the ceiling was lit up in flames, casting eerie shadows in the space we were in. It looked like we were in a dark dusty basement. I could feel chunks of something under me and a fine powdery substance all over the floor. As the ceiling burned brighter, I could see the coal chute Elena and I had slid down. The chute opened into the alley, but the back wall of the warehouse had collapsed on top of it, covering the opening with the debris now burning brightly above me.

Channeling my inner Ranger, I came up with a split second plan of action. I needed to create an opening in the collapsed debris above me, and then I needed to shove enough stuff under the chute so we could climb up and out of this burning hellhole.

I felt around with my hands and found a long wooden plank, but Elena grabbed it the same time I did. Mustering all my strength, I shoved the board into her gut and she fell back on her ass. Maneuvering the long board to a near vertical position, I thrust the board up as hard and as high as I could. It broke through the stuff that was burning, scattering it down on top of me.

As I slapped my hands like mad at the embers clinging to my clothes and hair, I thought I heard a voice coming from up above me. I looked up into the hole I'd made and I heard it again: it was Ranger's voice screaming, "**Babe!**"

_Omigod!_ I screamed back, "**Ranger!**" and thrashed my way through the still burning debris toward his voice.

Elena heard him too and ran the other way. I could barely make out a set of stairs across the room and saw Elena race up them. She opened a door and all I could see were flames.

I decided that way lay suicide and turned back toward Ranger's voice. I could hear scraping noises and more light suddenly filled the room. The opening grew substantially larger where there had been only flames before. I heard Ranger again, yelling, "_Quick, over here_," and saw his hand reach down to me.

Scrambling over debris and burning planks of wood, I climbed as high as I could and then leapt for his hand. He caught me and in one smooth motion lifted me out of hell into heaven and his waiting arms.

_You put your arms around me_

_And I believe that it's easier for you to let me go_

_You put your arms around me and I'm home._

Ranger quickly moved us away from the burning building, never letting go of me, his arms holding me tightly against him. He was murmuring in my ear a rush of whispered words in Spanish. We stopped when we reached the opposite side of the alley. Did he know what he called me or was it a memory still buried?

I needed to hear it. "Say it… please, say it again," I pleaded.

I pulled my head away from his and stared into his beautiful brown eyes. I didn't know what I expected to see. If his memories were back, would I be able to tell? Would he somehow look different? I just needed to hear him say it, not in the frenzy of the moment, but with conscious awareness of the act.

"Carlos… I need to hear you say it," I whispered, holding his face in my hands and imploring him to answer me.

He pulled me close and his lips descended on mine, but not before he whispered, "_Babe._"

My heart was pounding and my eyes started to sting. My throat felt like it was closing. That one four-letter word embodied all the love Ranger had for me that he'd never been able to speak of or act upon. For me it personified him accepting me for who I was and for loving me unconditionally. Marc had known he loved me, but he had no reference for it, no shared memories to base his love for me on. I could only hope I had both men in front of me, melded into one man, my Carlos, that I now held tightly in my arms, and forever in my heart.

The kiss was the sweetest touch I'd ever had from him. It was passionate, comforting and hopeful all at the same time. It was a reaffirmation of our love for each other, for finding each other yet again. That's what made what happened next so wrong and yet so right.

As I pulled back, I looked at his face and burst out laughing. After such a touching moment, he probably thought I was hysterical – and maybe I was, a little – but I was staring at his mouth, chin and cheeks that were now covered in a fine black powder.

Ranger _never_ got dirty. We both could be standing side by side and whatever the muck was – mud, paint, garbage – it would only land on me. Until now.

I took that as a sign that while 'superhero' Ranger may be back, 'regular guy' Marc Pardo was still strong within him. I had the best of both possible worlds.

I reached up and swiped my finger across his cheek and looked at it. Coal… well, coal dust. I had it all over me and now so did he. That old coal chute probably saved my and Elena's lives. Wait! Did Elena make it out?

Carlos was still holding me tightly to him. I turned in his arms to look across the alley. A wave of dizziness hit me. The building continued to burn and collapse in on itself as I collapsed in his arms.

. . .

I woke up to bright lights and immediately shut my eyes again. I was lying in a hospital bed and I could hear people moving around me. I tried it again and just barely cracked open my eyes. The first and only thing I saw was Carlos. He was sitting next to my bed with his head on his arms, and his arms on top of the bed.

I moved my hand toward his face and he jerked up.

He immediately placed his cheek next to mine and whispered, "Babe."

I closed my eyes and let the warmth of his cheek melt into me. Then the reality of what he said jolted me fully awake.

_Babe!_ **He called me Babe**! Just like he had last night. It was real!

"Carlos…" I uttered.

He lifted his head and while I missed the physical connection – the touch of his cheek against mine – I needed to see his eyes.

We gazed at each other and I could see dozens of cuts, scrapes and burns on his head, face and neck. His arms were bandaged. But he was smiling at me and his eyes reflected his love. I touched my fingers to his lips, the only unmarred part of him. He pressed his lips against my fingers and I could feel them move as he uttered "Babe" again.

Hearing that one wonderful word made my chest tighten, my heart feel like it was going to burst and a hard lump form in my throat. _Crap_, I was going to cry.

I managed to croak out, "You remember? You remember _us_?"

Carlos smiled, a full 200-watter. "You're my Eliza Doolittle, my Bombshell Bounty Hunter… my Babe. And they all have one thing in common. They're all mine. You're all mine." My vision got all blurry.

He wiped the tears from my cheeks. "I promised you I'd come back, that we'd have our someday. I asked you to be strong and you took me at my word. You're the strongest woman I know. You never gave up on me. You fought for me when everyone else accepted I was dead. Thank you, Babe, thank you for believing in me."

"There was no other option for me. I couldn't live with the alternative," I sniffed.

He pressed his lips lightly to mine and then kissed me more deeply, our tongues touching and our passions flaring. Butterflies were tickling my stomach and a warmth spread through my lower half. My hands started to wander over his body until I remembered we were in a hospital.

He stopped for a minute to grin and tell me, "I still may not be family material, I still carry two guns and a knife, but I also carry you in my heart and in my soul. And nothing's going to change that, memories or no memories. It's you and me, Babe, all the way."

And then the kissing started in earnest.

**Epilogue**

Both Carlos and I were released from the hospital later that day. I had a mild concussion, some minor burns and lots of bruises, but that was it. Carlos had received some really bad burns on his arms lifting burning planks of wood so he could get to me. He thought I was dead, but when he saw that board come shooting through the flames, he knew I was still alive. He must have gone through hell to get to me.

Before we were discharged, we talked about everything that had happened the last few days.

After surviving Elena, exploding buildings and being trapped in a burning basement, my anger at Carlos for leaving suddenly when he was supposed to be recuperating from brain surgery dissipated quickly.

I was just so glad he was alright and that he was there when I needed him. Ranger had come to my rescue so many times I felt like a cat who'd already gone through her nine lives and was living on borrowed time.

On top of that, he was remembering his past and he remembered us – he remembered that he always called me Babe. In the heat of the moment though, when it first happened, I wasn't even aware of the significance of it. I just knew he was there for me.

I might have been able to get out of the basement on my own, but I would have had to fight Elena before she killed me or the warehouse collapsed on top of us. I'll never know.

As for Elena Benneau, her body wasn't found in the charred ruins of the warehouse. She was still at large, but now she had every law enforcement officer in New Jersey on the lookout for her. All her financial assets had been frozen. It was only a matter of time until she would be apprehended, both the Chief of the Trenton Police Department and the Attorney General assured me. We'll see.

The boxes Elena had been carrying out to her car did indeed hold all the drugs that had been stolen from the PD evidence lockers. One of the packages had been opened. Luckily for me, this was the one Elena had used to inject into me. It contained pure powdered sugar. Drug pushers commonly used this to dilute or 'cut' the heroin to make it go farther. So Elena had injected sugar water into my system. For some reason, I found that amusing.

With all the evidence we had, Joe was eventually cleared of all charges and was reinstated. He'd shown up at the hospital that morning with two dozen donuts from Tasty Pastry – one dozen Boston Creams and one dozen assorted. It was the one thing he got right. Well, that and he shook Carlos' hand and told us he was happy for us. He was taking a lot of heat for the mess with Ana and Elena and needed all the friends he could get. In a round about way, he thanked me for clearing him in the drug thefts. There was one point during Joe's grudging thanks that I thought Carlos was going to deck him, but I watched his blank face slide into place and he was Mr. Cool, Calm and Collected again. Yup, Ranger was back.

Pax also visited me in the hospital. He congratulated me on solving the case, telling me he'd never doubt my spidey sense again. Then he told me he'd accepted a transfer to the DEA office in San Francisco. He grinned like a schoolboy when he confided that he was going to ask Illiana to marry him. Before he left, he said that John would probably be promoted to head up the team in DC and that I had a standing offer of a full-time job if I wanted it.

That's when Carlos interrupted. "Steph has a couple of other job offers to consider, in addition to that one." I shot him a glance, but he had on his blank face. I wasn't aware anyone had offered me a job. What did he have up his sleeve?

When we were alone again, I asked him what job offers he'd been talking about, but he changed the subject and instead asked me when I wanted to meet with our respective families. I knew it wouldn't be long before my family heard about my latest adventure and descend upon the hospital. As for Carlos' family, I hadn't expected him to ever want to visit them again, but he now was looking forward to it. He said he'd had flashes of memories from his early years, but so far couldn't remember anything about his teen years. We both wondered if those memories were lost forever.

The one trip he was very eager to take was another visit to Julie as soon as possible, but I was surprised when he pulled out his cell and called her right then and there.

When she came on the line, he said, "Hey Boo… I thought I'd call and let you know Steph and I will be down to see you next week." I couldn't hear her exact words, but I could hear her excited scream as she recognized her father's name for her when she was a baby.

Listening to father and daughter share memories and seeing Carlos' face light up as he laughed and joked with Julie warmed my heart. I never thought I would see Ranger this way, so at ease and so outwardly happy.

When he'd left a few days ago, he'd been tense and irritable which was very unlike him. Something happened on that trip, something big. I'd been upset when he left, worried he'd overdo things and compromise his surgery, but if this was the result then the trip was a good thing.

I had to ask what happened during his trip to wrap up 'unfinished' business. That was when he told me about the park ranger in Arizona who pulled him from the desert and saved his life. He wanted to payback her kindness. While Ranger has always been a generous man, I thought this gesture was more about putting Marc Pardo to rest.

When he told me he'd also gone to visit Illiana, I had a momentary flash of jealousy, but felt reassured by both Carlos' honesty and Pax's earlier admission of his love for Illiana Parduhn. If Carlos could be generous, so could I.

I could tell there was a lot more that had happened on his trip, but that would come in due time.

And now, we had all the time in the world. We had a lifetime to live our happily ever after.

_**People always fantasize about true love having a happy ending! **_

_**What a pity, they don't know that true love doesn't have an ending.**_


End file.
